By Your Side
by Seasonal Dreamer
Summary: Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself? Rated T just to be safe :P
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! :D I'm back! I came up with this idea a few weeks ago (rather randomly, I might add) and I want to know if you guys think I should continue with it. It took me forever to write it, though :P I have an awful habbit of nitpicking haha. I hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you think!

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Disclaimer: **Ah. Back to this again :P But just as a precaution, I own absolutely nothing.

**Rating: **I'm going to go with T. Just, you know, in case :P

* * *

_**By Your Side**_

**Chapter One**

It was, perhaps, a good day. The sun was slowly setting, the sky was a beautiful pinkish-purple, and no clouds were visible for miles. The grass covered nearly every inch, its soft green hue seeming to just immediately slow one's heart and relax one's muscles. Yet, despite the scenery seeming to almost magically spread a sense of well-being, all nineteen year old George Weasley could do was grimace. In fact, hardly anyone had seen him smile genuinely for a long time, except for the occasional attempts at a grin for his twin's and his mother's sake more than his own. It had been several months since 'it' had happened, yet George still struggled. Fred, his twin, had been there for him every step of the way, but he knew it pained his brother to see him so despondent most of the time.

But really, all things considering, George thought he was doing pretty well. He felt like he was really turning a corner now. It was perhaps the fact that Fred was almost annoyingly determined to make George smile again that helped pull him out quickly enough. Fred had unabashedly showed his worry and protectiveness to him, desperately needing George to be okay. But George felt like he was teetering on the edge still, and he was afraid that the next few days might push him back under.

And while he wasn't as happy go lucky as he used to be, at least, for a while, he hadn't been waking up from his nightmares screaming. Which, to him, was a major improvement. And he was trying, he really was. He helped Fred invent things and run the shop and even managed to plaster on something akin to a smile from time to time, but he still had a long way to go.

It just wasn't as easy to stop the flashbacks as he hoped it would be, and the frustrating and terrifying part of it was that they would just come out of nowhere. He never knew when his subconscious was going to react to something someone said, and he was powerless to stop it once it began.

George sighed and picked at the grass blades surrounding him. He couldn't stand to be in his house at the moment, what with everyone's worried eyes following him where ever he went. So he had chosen a hill a little ways away from the Burrow and simply got lost in thought. So it was no wonder he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.

Fred Weasley had been looking for George in a slightly panicked frenzy when he came upon his brother, outside, staring at the sky. Fred stopped when his eyes landed on him, feeling his heart ache, and finding a very familiar tidal wave of rage to take over him at the people who did this to his beloved twin. But he fought it back as hard as he could; he had to remain calm - or somewhat calm - for George, because Merlin knew his brother would need all the support he could get for the next couple of days.

The incident had occurred four months ago. With him and George _finally_ being allowed to join the Order while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were out doing...whatever they were doing, they had been put on a very basic mission. Basic, of course, meaning that they were less likely to die should something go wrong. The only problem with that was that he and George wouldn't be working side by side. While they were both on the same job, it was required for one of them to be intercepting some crucial papers while the other tried to worm information out of a Ministry official without causing suspicion. Fred, with his natural charm and wit that was slightly more pronounced than his brother's, took Polyjuice potion and went to try and see what he could get out of said Ministry official. Oddly enough, Fred had had the more dangerous job. Or so they thought.

George's job had been simple enough, and all Fred could think numbly at the time was, _'Leave it to George to make even the most innocent case dangerous.'_ They had a while ago found out about some secret plan the Death Eaters had created; to kill the Muggle Prime Minister. Apparently, the Prime Minister had been working closely with Remus Lupin (who everyone thought of as the unofficial new leader of the Order since Dumbledore died) on Muggle police being informed of possible Death Eater suspects and to alert the Prime Minister immediately should they spot one. And they knew exactly where the exchange was going to take place; in one of the stalls in the bathroom where officials entered the Ministry of Magic. All George had to do was resemble a Ministry official, step in the right stall at the right time to receive the envelope, enter the Ministry of Magic, hide the envelope in a designated spot so someone from the Order could pick it up minutes later, and get out right away. The purpose of hiding it was merely a precaution, seeing as the real Death Eater and George would probably be within seconds of each other.

Unfortunately, that wasn't how it happened. It started off as it was supposed to. George had flawlessly entered the stall and gotten the envelope and hid it in a loose brick in a discreet part of the Ministry building. But what neither he nor anyone else had counted on was that the Death Eater would catch a glimpse of George right before he entered _his_ stall, and instantly know that he was going to take the assassination plans.

George then, feeling confident, headed to a nearby fireplace to Floo out of the building. But he never got that far. The Death Eater and his accomplice - presumably another Death Eater - knocked him out with one heavy blow to the head.

They took him to a hidden dungeon and tortured him for nearly twenty-four hours, trying to find out what George had done with the envelope before the Order found him. Specifically, Fred, after viciously yelling at the members of the Order to let him come, had found him chained to a wall. The image still haunted Fred, and he knew it probably always would. Fred felt like a part of him had died that day, because to see his brother, his twin, his best friend, in such conditions was...excruciating. But they got one good thing out of it; they captured the Death Eaters present.

And now, four months later, the trial against Sebastien Woodriff and Horace Brawning would take place the next day. They had pleaded not guilty and claimed that they had been under the _Imperius_ curse. They even went so far as to say that they weren't real Death Eaters. But George knew they hadn't been cursed. They were very coherent and knew _exactly_ what they were doing. And, to top it all off, Veritaserum would not be given. Why, no one knew for sure, but they suspected it had to do with the Ministry being corrupt; they must want Death Eaters to have a chance of getting off.

So that meant that the trial would be like any Muggle court case and George would have to relive his horrific experience in front of a jury of people who knew nothing about him. The younger twin had never given the full details of what happened to him, even to Fred. He just couldn't do it. And he didn't know how he was going to spit it out in a few days' time.

Fred walked softly towards George who sat on the top of a hill, legs crossed and arms slightly behind him in support. "Hey," Fred said quietly for George's sake, knowing how jumpy he was now.

George looked up and gave a wan smile. "Hey."

Fred sat down beside him and looked at him, eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

George let out a long breath, staring out on the horizon. "I'm fine," he replied indifferently. But Fred saw through that.

"They're going to go to Azkaban, George," Fred assured him fiercely. "Those bastards won't ever see the light of day."

The ginger to his right winced slightly. "They've got one of the best defenders in the country, Fred," George told him tonelessly. "And what we were doing _was_ pretty shady -"

"To hell with that," Fred growled furiously. "They're not getting away with what...what they did to you. I don't care if I have to take the law into my own hands, they are going to _pay."_

George didn't seem comforted by this. If anything, he looked more anxious, yet his tone remained impassive. "I'm just being realistic -"

"No," Fred said firmly, placing a hand on George's shoulder. "The reality is that they are going to Azkaban, alright?"

When George didn't say anything, Fred repeated, albeit kinder, _"Alright?" _

George sighed. "Alright."

* * *

George was moody at the dinner table that evening. Everyone seemed to stare at him as if they expected him to burst in to flames - it was aggravating. Bill, Charlie, Ginny, Fred, and his parents were _all_ going to the trial. They were _all_ going to hear _everything._ And George didn't like that one bit.

He picked at his food sporadically, not particularly hungry, and mostly pushed it around on his plate to try and make it look like he made some sort of dent. Fred watched him like a hawk, eyebrows knitted together in worry. "George, you should eat something," Fred said under his breath.

George looked up and found himself smirking a little. Fred had been basically glued to his side ever since he had found him (not that they weren't inseparable before), and in all honesty, it made George feel more secure, especially when he had to face his demons at night. His twin was always there to comfort George after he had awoken, terrified, from a nightmare in the middle of the night. Fred hovered around him twenty four hours a day and told everyone none too politely to leave George the hell alone whenever he got the feeling that George was becoming overwhelmed. Bit by bit George had confided in Fred what had happened, though Fred still didn't know the whole story. And Fred comforted him then too. It was truly all thanks to Fred that George had managed to try and get himself together.

But the men still haunted him, and now George would have to face them in a little less than twelve hours. Could anyone really blame him that he wasn't exactly hungry?

'_You will be begging for death by the time we're done with you.'_

George jumped as the snarling voice suddenly ran through his head. His stomach flipped dangerously and he swallowed thickly. "I'm not hungry," he murmured, pushing the plate away from him, suddenly desperate to be alone. "I'll be in our room." The younger twin could feel the distress coming off of everyone, especially Fred, as he stood and headed to his and Fred's room.

Everyone at the table watched the younger twin fly up the stairs with sadness. "Mum, I don't think George is ready for this," Bill said worriedly. "I don't want him to become depressed again; he only just got out of it, and barely at that."

Mrs. Weasley didn't answer and blinked her eyes a couple times to fight back her tears. She loved her children so much and it never ceased to reduce her to a sobbing mess whenever she had to think about what her poor son had been through. The woman had been much quieter as of late, seeming to try and distract herself with household chores and not burst out crying.

"Well, he doesn't have a choice, does he?" Ginny said glumly. "Not unless he wants those bloody tossers to go free, and we all know he doesn't." Mrs. Weasley was so distraught she didn't even reprimand her daughter for her language, but Mr. Weasley did it for her. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"But can't there be a way for George to not be there?" Charlie pressed half-heartedly. "I mean, I'm not even sure _I_ want to hear it and I didn't live through it."

"Where's Fred?" Mrs. Weasley suddenly asked, just noticing her other son missing.

"Probably upstairs with George," Ginny replied with a slight smile. "It's a good thing Fred's here, because honestly, he's the only one George really talks to anymore."

"I just wish we could make it less hard for him," Bill mused, poking at his food thoughtfully.

"I don't think that's possible," Charlie sighed. He looked at the stairs. "Let's just hope Fred has something up his sleeve."

* * *

The nervous ginger fell face down on to his bed, groaning into his pillow. George almost wished he could just forget about the whole thing, but he knew he wanted nothing more than for those Death Eaters to be put in Azkaban for life. George just wished they could convict them without him testifying. Or being in the same room. Or just being present at all, really. And he _certainly_ didn't want his family to be there. If they were like this now, when they barely knew the story at all, he didn't want to think about how they'd react when they did.

"Georgie?"

Ah. George knew Fred would follow him in a matter of minutes, and he though he wanted to be alone, Fred was always exempt from those feelings. He liked Fred's company; he just didn't want to talk, which was unusual from how he used to be. But he let out a grunt anyway to let Fred know that George knew he was there.

Fred sat on George's bed and silently, almost instinctively, ran his fingers through George's hair. It was the same gesture their mother had used whenever either of them was upset when they were little.

"You know, I'm going to be right by your side the whole time," Fred told him after a few moments of quiet company. "We're all going to be with you."

"I don't know if I can do it," George mumbled back, not making eye contact. _What kind of Gryffindor am I?_

But Fred was determined to get George through this. Those Death Eaters were going to be punished for what they did to him, and Fred knew it couldn't happen without George's testimony. "If anything gets too bad, no matter what it is, just tell me," Fred said firmly. "I'll make it better. You can do this, mate. I know you can."

George felt a rush of affection towards Fred. His brother was always there for him, and he only realised now how much he needed him. But still, the thought of having his family know details about what happened bothered him immensely. Yet he knew none of them would stay home no matter what he said. Slowly, George nodded.

"You look exhausted," Fred said gently. "You should get some sleep."

But George shook his head and sat up. "Nah. I...I think I'm just going to take a walk, actually."

"Mind if I come along?" Fred wasn't going to let George be by himself for a second.

George hesitated before shaking his head. But curiously, instead of heading towards the door, he went to the window. At Fred's surprised look, George gave a wry smile and replied, "I don't want to be interrogated tonight."

A bit unnerved at how familiar George seemed with this routine, he watched as his twin effortlessly swung his legs out of the window and then jumped the short distance below. Of course, that didn't mean it didn't take Fred by surprise.

"_George!"_ Fred cried, sprinting to the window and anxiously sticking his head out of the window. He had assumed George would climb down, not _jump. _Fred breathed a huge sigh of relief, however, when he saw George smirking up at him. "Don't _do_ that!" Fred exclaimed reproachfully. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"You can go through the front door," George advised. Fred hesitated, but he ended up swinging his legs out of the window. He gulped, but he was determined to do whatever George did; they were twins, it was just how they worked. "Fred, really, go through the front door," George said warningly. Fred ignored him and, with a deep breath, jumped to the ground.

He landed just fine, but the impact which he hadn't been exactly ready for sent a shock wave of pain through his feet. He cursed loudly and dropped to ground, and George was kneeling beside him. "It's okay," he murmured, hand on Fred's shoulder. "Happened to me too the first time."

"Why were you jumping out of windows anyway?" Fred demanded.

George didn't answer and stood up. He looked out in the distance but asked after a few moments, "Feel better yet?"

"Yeah," Fred replied, standing. He watched George warily; he seemed distant. "George?"

George didn't seem to hear him. He began to walk, and it took Fred a moment to realise that George didn't have his wand with him. Muttering a low _Lumos _and mildly alarmed now, he jogged up beside his twin. "Where's your wand?"

"Hmm?" George hummed distractedly before the question sank in. "Oh. I must have forgotten it."

Fred frowned but chose not to say anything yet. George didn't just 'forget his wand.' They walked in silence for a few minutes, Fred's wand the only source of light, and the older twin soon began to realise that George was following a sort of path that seemed to have been made by the ground being worn down over time by the trail of feet. And Fred was certain they hadn't made it before. "Do you do this often?" he asked George suspiciously.

George shrugged and replied evasively, "I've done it a couple of times, I suppose."

Fred grabbed a hold of George's wrist and forced him to stop. "You go on nighttime trudges by _yourself?"_ he asked incredulously. "Are you mental?"

"I just needed some fresh air," George muttered.

"Then wake me up!" Fred said in a slightly frustrated tone. "Don't go gallivanting about without a wand and by yourself!"

"It's no big deal -"

"It's a _very_ big deal, George!" Fred was starting to get angry now. "And you know it is! What if something happens again, huh? Did you _ever_ think about that?"

George's eyes flashed dangerously. "You think I don't think about it?" he asked in a quiet yet somehow deadly way.

"You know that's not what I meant," Fred responded, no longer angry but pleading. "I don't want it to happen to you again. Do you know how terrified I'd be if I woke up and found you gone?"

George looked at his feet. "'M sorry," he mumbled like he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The last thing he wanted was for Fred to worry more about him.

"Why do you go without your wand?" Fred asked, still a little frightened by George's lack of concern for his own welfare.

"I don't know," George said, throwing his hands up in the air. "I just _don't."_

"You don't just not bring your wand," Fred responded sternly.

"Look, I'll bring it with me from now on, okay?" George said, hoping to get off the topic.

Fred ran a hand through his hair, feeling declarations of worry bubble up to his lips. Perhaps there was some kind of self-defeating purpose behind being unarmed and unprepared that George was not aware of. At least, Fred hoped that George wasn't aware of it should that be the case. But a thought still nagged at his conscience. What if George didn't recover? _Rubbish,_ he scolded himself. He would make George be happy if it killed him. But in the meantime, he gave his brother a crooked smile and replied, "Okay. Now let's go back, yeah?"

The younger twin nodded and Fred ruffled his hair affectionately. It turned out that to get back in their room, George would conjure up a ladder and make it disappear once he was in. Why George didn't do this going down, Fred had no idea. Perhaps it was quicker to jump? Nonetheless, it was brilliant, really, but Fred was nervous about his late night habit and for how long it had been going on.

"G'night, Freddie," George yawned once they were both in, going to go to bed.

But before he could, Fred suddenly lurched forward and engulfed him in a hug, taking the other ginger by surprise. It scared Fred more than he could say that George stiffened in his hold before relaxing. "Once this is all over, how about we go to that Muggle ice cream shop you like and get the biggest strawberry ice cream cone they have?" he offered in a gruff voice. "And then, of course, we can go to that Muggle magic shop and charm everyone there. You love it when they say it's like real magic, right?"

George smiled widely and chuckled a bit. "Yeah. But I hope you know I'm holding you to that," he grinned as they pulled back. "Good night, Fred. And...thanks."

"Anytime, Georgie," Fred replied with a beam. "And...everything will turn out right, I promise."

And George, trusting his brother immensely, couldn't help but believe him.

* * *

Reviews would be lovely :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **A HUGE thank you to **mebyrne, MyOwnPurpleWorld, MadCatta, The Hiccup pup, hope for eternity, Submarine19, Aris1013, ****GeorgieForever,** and** Seashells 1000 **for reviewing! It feels so good to be welcomed back like that :) I'm so happy you all think this story has potential and I hope this lives up to expectations! :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own diddly squat :)

**Summary:** Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **T

* * *

_**By Your Side**_

**Chapter Two**

The way the Weasleys entered the Ministry of Magic was through the visitor's entrance. They weren't about to subject George to the place where the whole nightmare had started. But as they walked, they almost looked like body guards. Fred and Charlie stuck to George's side like they had been super glued. Bill was in front, pushing people out of the way and nearly snarling at anyone who looked at them weirdly, which was odd because he was normally the calm and collected one. Their parents and Ginny took up the rear, but the way Ginny was twirling her wand made anyone who looked at her think that if they did anything wrong, she would hex them into oblivion. In fact, it mostly looked like a mob was surrounding George Weasley more than anything, and the ginger couldn't help but be amused.

But as they walked, George's ghostly smirk began to fade as a feeling of foreboding took its place. The family was tense and their eyes darted all over the place. Fred laid a hand on George's shoulder lightly as if needing to remind George that he was there. By the time they reached the court room, everyone was beyond anxious. They were late, and they all knew that the suspects had probably already arrived. But with a deep breath, George nodded at Bill to open the door. The opening wasn't large enough for all of them to get through, so George, with Fred beside him, went first.

And the second they walked in, George was met with two pairs of sinister eyes gleaming at him, obvious hatred written on their faces. Sebastien was tall but with a heavy build. He was very muscular and had short, black hair and equally dark eyes. His skin was also dark and he had a rough appearance that subconsciously would set off alarms in everyone's head. Horace, on the other hand, was slightly shorter but just as strong. He had short, blonde hair, brown eyes, and fair skin, but the scowl that seemed intermittingly etched on his face made him no less unnerving.

George stopped in his tracks for only a moment, as Fred shifted slightly so as they walked George was hidden from them. Fred glared powerfully back at them the entire time, and the intensity of it got a clear message across: _If you want him, you're going to have to get through me first._

The two of them smirked in unison, almost as if planned. _Deal._

Fred felt the rage resurface all over again. No one hurt his twin. _No one._ And if they did, Fred was determined to make them suffer for it, which was exactly what he hoped Azkaban would do. But he wasn't sure he could wait for that. Fred began to growl protectively, looking like he was about to lunge at them. But before he could do so, Charlie flicked him in the head and said, "Leave it."

Fred turned to snap at him, but found Charlie glowering just as harshly at the men as he had. The only difference was that Charlie knew that attacking them would only help _them_ in the case. And possibly get themselves arrested while they were at it.

The entire family took a seat with Fred on George's left and Charlie on George's right. Bill sat beside Charlie, and Ginny and their parents took a seat beside Fred. The room looked like a small stadium with its circular design, making sure that whenever someone got up to speak all who were present could see them.

Horace seemed to smile maliciously at George as he got settled, but George stared coldly back, refusing to look away; he wasn't going to let them think he was scared of them, even if he truly was.

Everyone seemed to notice the tension and many people, though they weren't quite sure what this case was about, began to fidget nervously.

But as George's lawyer, Mr. Malkuivich, began speaking, Horace was the first to look away. George felt a small sense of triumph at that, before his lawyers words cut through to him.

"Four months ago, a tragedy took place," Mr. Malkuivich said solemnly. It was clear that he was trying to set the mood. Malkuivich was a tall man, easily six feet, with greying hair and laugh wrinkles on his face. He was a great lawyer from what they knew, compassionate yet straight to the point. Sympathy, they found, was apparently a characteristic that was hard to find. "It started off as a noble act by a brave man to save the Muggle Prime Minister's life. Some people might wonder why anyone would go to such trouble for a Muggle, but they would mistakenly look over the Prime Minister's importance. The Prime Minister, fully aware of the magical world, had agreed to help search for the Death Eaters who have tortured and killed innocent people. The Muggle police were to report any suspicious behaviour or if they recognised one of the men as someone they were looking for and contact the Prime Minister immediately. This has proved quite successful, and thirteen Death Eaters have been captured because of their help."

"But now we enter a more serious situation. A young man by the name of George Weasley was told to intercept an envelope containing the plan on when, where, and how the Prime Minister was to be killed successfully, something George masterly accomplished. However, after placing the envelope in a safe place to be picked up by authorities later, George was brutally attacked by these two men. He was taken to a dungeon in Mr. Woodriff's very own home, and tortured for nearly twenty four hours straight."

George paled a bit at the memory, and Fred gripped George's hand so tightly the circulation felt cut off. He felt Charlie tense beside him, and George miserably knew that the reactions were only going to get worse.

"This man saved another's life and nearly died because of it." Fred gripped George's hand, if possible, even tighter. George glanced at his twin, and found his jaw clenched tightly and his face white. "Over the next few days, you will hear the whole story from witnesses to the victim himself. You will be asked to look upon the photographs taken by Healers, as is custom for these types of situations, of George Weasley's injuries. He was tortured using both Muggle ways of brutality and wizarding including the use of the _Cruciatus_ curse."

There was a muffled sob from somewhere to George's left, and he realised with a sinking feeling that it was his mother.

"What you hear and see will scar you. It may haunt some of you for nights to come, but I must ask you to keep in mind that a real person has endured this. He is sitting before you, asking nothing but to bring the men who nearly killed him to justice. Horace Brawning and Sebastien Woodriff would like you to think that they had been under the _Imperius_ curse the entire time and were not clear on what they were doing. They want you to set them free. But as you listen over the next couple of days, it will become clear that the actions and words spoken by these men were ones that came from two people who were in their right mind, and hold complete responsibility for their actions. Will you deny a noble and brave man's wish to shut his assaulters away for life? That, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is for you to decide."

Fred, as a first reaction that occurred at the back of his mind, found the whole thing to be a bit dramatic. If it were any other situation, he might have been slightly amused at the ending of Malkuivich's speech. But Fred could only find his grief for his brother and fury at the men who attacked George grow rapidly at each word. He did not know the whole story, and he found that he honestly wasn't sure if he ever wanted to know. Fred didn't think he'd be able to handle hearing every detail of his beloved twin's torture. But he would not abandon his brother when he needed him, no matter what the trial uncovered.

Fred kept his eyes purposely away from the two accused men. He didn't think that if he looked upon the two people he hated with a passion he had never experienced before he'd be able to stop himself from murdering them on the spot.

George leaned heavily in his seat as his lawyer took his own. True, Malkuivich was really laying it on thick to make it seem like George was some kind of hero, but if it helped him, then he didn't care.

"You okay?" Fred asked, leaning towards him in concern. His eyes were a little pained from what had been said.

George nodded curtly, staring straight ahead at the defendants' lawyer, who stood to speak. He was a man of average height and clearly much younger. His hair was a light brown and he seemed like the stern type. George was slightly wary of what would come out of his mouth.

Mr. Rutsklich stood before the jury like Malkuivich had, looking ridiculously like he found the whole case to be absurd. Charlie grit his teeth at the man's expression, flexing his fingers. _How _dare_ that man stand there and say that those bastards who tortured my little brother are innocent!_ He growled savagely in his head.

"I, first of all, want to express my sympathy for the young victim of these two men. A horrific experience, I do imagine," Rutsklich shook his head sadly. Fred wanted to bite that man's head off. He was trying to look compassionate towards George, when really, he didn't give a _damn._ "But can these terrible events really be brought upon such an innocent man of two people's own free will?" he said almost incredulously. "Can it not be rationalised that these men were not aware of what they were doing? The _Imperius_ curse is an Unforgiveable curse that many people are not able to fight off. It can make a man kill his own family without knowing he had done so. Is it not possible that the same thing had happened to these two unfortunate men?"

Fred was growling slightly, hands in fists. _Unfortunate men?_

"Can it not be thought that the two accused men here are, perhaps, as much of a victim as George Weasley had been?"

George's mouth fell open. _They were _what?

"Bullshit," Fred hissed, unable to keep perfectly quiet. Luckily, no one, save for George, heard him.

"I implore you to look past your emotions and reason whether it is possible that these two men had simply been used as a pawn in some other sadistic man's game. As you hear the terrible events that have happened to this poor man, while you sympathize with his suffering, think carefully about whether they had _meant to do it._ No one denies what these men have done. But can they be held accountable for such unspeakable brutality if they had no control over what they were doing? I want you to ask yourself whether or not you are condemning two poor, misused men for a crime they were not aware of committing. And as you listen, I hope you choose wisely."

Fred felt George tremble beside him, and it took all his willpower not to snap completely. He wrapped a protective arm around his twin and fought with his anger and sorrow as he tried to comfort George as best he could. Glancing to his left and right, he saw with a slight detached amusement as every member of his family glowered powerfully at the two Death Eaters. Ginny seemed to hold a crazed glint in her eyes that so resembled the ones he and George would often get as they plotted.

Bill, on the other hand, surprised Fred. He had never seen such fury in his brother's eyes as he stared the men down. He was something of a curse breaker, and had been trained very well in different spells and counter curses. And how he _wished_ he could do something to the scum before him. Charlie seemed to be shaking like George, only with absolute fury. The older twin didn't dare look at their mother and father, however. He was a little afraid of their reaction, not because of the anger, but of the sadness he might find.

But all Mrs. Weasley could focus on was trying to get the jury to _understand._ They had taken in each speech almost nonchalantly, simply gathering evidence. Some of these people had to be parents...if only she could appeal to that side of them...

* * *

It took another hour or two before the judge called a fifteen minute recess. George silently groaned out his thanks. The time frame had showcased some of the witnesses, and while they seemed both dull and their accounts really didn't offer much information, George was just antsy about being in the same room as the two men who had tried to kill him. And it didn't help that they would glare at George whenever they knew no one from the jury was looking at them.

Fred, of course, saw every look, and would lean over his brother protectively, baring his teeth and snarling at them under his breath. He just wanted to _murder_ them! But now at the break, Fred nearly flew out of the room with George in tow, trying to get him away from them for as long as possible.

"How are you holding up?" Fred asked immediately, worry weaved thickly into his voice as they sat down in some lone chairs.

George managed a microscopic, crooked smile. "Not my worst day."

Fred was distressed, but before he could say anything more, the rest of their family bustled up to them. "Hey buddy," Bill said gently, ruffling his hair. "Everything okay?"

George had to suppress his frustration. "I'm fine," he shrugged. But he was severely annoyed at their crowding around him.

Fred seemed to sense this, and ordered none too kindly, "Give him room to breathe, for Merlin's sake."

"Watch your tone, Fred," Mr. Weasley warned. But his gaze drifted to George and felt his heart clench. Even though the twins loved to cause mayhem and bug everyone constantly, he loved them dearly, just like the rest of his children. And it enraged and pained him to know that George had suffered so much. The night that Fred found his brother, he cried for the first time since Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets, though only his wife witnessed it and cried with him. But he now tried to remain calm and collected; it was the least he could to for his son.

The older twin bit his tongue, but hovered by George's side nonetheless, shooting anyone who came too close an icy glare.

"Er..." George spoke up after a long moment of silence. "You guys, erm, if you want...you don't have to be here -"

"Don't be thick, George," Charlie admonished gently. "We're not going anywhere."

George didn't seem to like that answer. "Let me rephrase that," George said, nearly rolling his eyes. "Don't be here." At everyone's look of surprise, George rushed to explain himself. "Look, I don't really want you guys to find out what happened, okay? What's the point? That won't help anyone, and..." George shifted nervously. "It's not...going to be pretty."

A fire seemed to erupt in everyone's eyes at his words. There were no words for the anger they felt towards those two men who had done this to George. "We're staying, George," Bill said firmly, nails digging into his palm. "We're going to watch those bastards get thrown in Azkaban to rot."

"Bill!" Mrs. Weasley chided. "Language, please!"

"But he's right," Ginny said seriously. "I think we all deserve to see that at least."

George squirmed, and Fred wrapped his arm around George's shoulders again. "We want to be here for you, okay? Deal with it," he said with a slight smile.

George sighed just as they were called back in. A few more witnesses were to be called up, and he hoped they had a bit more to offer his case; the ones before merely accounted where they _hadn't_ been - both Death Eaters had used different places and scenarios to explain George's unconsciousness - and how they had caught a glimpse of George being dragged off.

Without being asked, Fred seemed to subtly shift around his brother as they all walked in, constantly making sure that the Death Eaters' eyes could not latch on to his twin. It seemed to be something of a quickly developing routine as Fred shielded him and the entire family glowered venomously at Horace and Sebastien.

But once they sat down, no one could stop the bone chilling glare they each sent George, who tried as hard as he could to not falter. Fred growled, not even realising he had begun to rise out of his seat until George tugged on his sleeve. "Leave it, mate."

Fred clenched his jaw together tightly, but slowly he sank back into his chair. Horace grinned maliciously and winked smugly at him. Fred nearly lunged for him again, but Ginny gripped his shoulders and forced him down. "Get a grip, okay? You're going to get George in trouble," she hissed.

"If we may start, Mr. Weasley," Malkuivich said gently to Fred. Fred took a deep breath and nodded curtly. "Good. Now, I would like to invite Mr. Millard to tell us all about what he saw the night George was kidnapped."

A tall, straggly man came into the room guarded by two Aurors, like any other witness. George could tell people were starting to get bored, and he hoped this man carried more weight to his story. After the man swore to tell the truth, Malkuivich asked, "Could you state your name for the record?"

"Richard Millard."

"Can you tell us what happened the day of the attack?"

Richard shifted slightly in his seat to get comfortable before beginning his story. "I work at the Ministry in the Department of International Magical Office of Law. I had realised that I had forgotten a few of my files at home and I was just going to Floo to my house when I saw two men supporting George Weasley, though I obviously didn't know who he was at the time."

"Do you see the two men with George in this courtroom today?"

"Yes."

"Can you point them out?"

Richard raised his finger to Horace and Sebastien. "Please let the record show that Mr. Millard has identified the defendants, Horace Brawning and Sebastien Woodriff," Malkuivich said, beginning to walk around a bit. "Mr. Millard, please continue your story."

"I was a bit alarmed at first because George seemed to be out cold, and there was a small trail of blood behind them." Fred gritted his teeth at that. "I approached them and asked what happened. He," Richard pointed to Sebastien, "said that George was an escaped prisoner who had just been on trial. I thought it a bit odd that somehow George had escaped, and so far too. These courtrooms are often well guarded. I asked whether I should notify St. Mungo's since George looked pretty beaten, but he hastily said they had already done so and were taking him there."

"I'll kill them," Charlie hissed from George's right, making George look up in slight surprise. That wasn't even the bad part, but Charlie didn't know anything about what happened, so every little detail enraged him.

"I thought it was a bit odd," Richard admitted. "I didn't think George looked fit to travel, and he wasn't even on a stretcher like most patients should be when knocked unconscious. But they had pushed past me before I could say anything else."

"You are pretty familiar with the people in the criminal department, are you not?" Malkuivich asked calmly, seeming to focus on the floor, hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes."

"Have you ever seen Mr. Woodriff or Mr. Brawning before?"

"No."

"How did they react when you approached them?"

"They seemed nervous, now that I think about it," Richard replied thoughtfully. "And in a hurry, but then again, George _was_ bleeding pretty badly."

"You said they pushed past you," Malkuivich inquired, lifting his eyes to look Richard in the face. "In what matter did they do so? Did they seem concerned for George's welfare?"

"No, actually," Richard said slowly. "They looked more...annoyed, like I was bothering them in some way. They handled him pretty roughly too."

"Strange behaviour for two people claiming to be bringing another to St. Mungo's," Malkuivich mused almost as if to himself, but loud enough for everyone to hear. He looked to the judge. "No further questions."

"Would the defence like to cross examine Mr. Millard?" the judge asked gruffly.

"No, your Honour," Rutsklich replied.

* * *

Reviews would be very much appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**Thank you so much to **mebyrne, MyOwnPurpleWorld, MadCatta, The Hiccup pup, hope for eternity, Aris1013, GeorgieForever,** and** Spiralling-Down **for reviewing! I'm so happy you guys like it and since I have a five day weekend from school, I'll have more time to work on it :D Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out fairly quickly! Let me know what you all think of this chapter :) Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **T

* * *

_**By Your Side**_

**Chapter Three**

Bill found himself losing control of his temper with each passing minute. It hurt and infuriated the eldest brother to know that the two men who had nearly killed his little brother were right before him and there was nothing he could do. Bill Weasley, the rock and protector of the family, had somehow failed to keep George safe. Yes, he knew there was a high chance that his siblings could die what with You-Know-Who running amuck. But the reality of it every actually happening never really _sunk in._

The family had had time to try and get over what happened, but each day proved to make no one any less angry than the day before. They had thought that after a while their anger would fade, but it never had. He wondered whether by the end of this whole ordeal someone would snap. And as he glanced at Fred, past Charlie and George, his first bet would be on him.

Fred and George were unbelievably close, as close as two people could possibly be. Bill winced inwardly as he thought of the agony Fred must have felt to have found George in such conditions. If it hurt him, he didn't want to think what it was like for Fred.

" When you found out who these two men were, what was your reaction?" Malkuivich asked, his eyes focused once more on the floor as he seemed to pace the room. He almost seemed to be lost in thought, but he kept up his stream of questions and followed up on the witnesses statements.

"Actually, at first I only knew of Mr. Woodriff, but I was still slightly baffled," a Ms. Slanin admitted. She was a rather new Auror who was still on 'filing duty' as was custom for all new Aurors. "I had never heard of him before, but for some reason the 'Woodriff' name seemed to stir something in me. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. So I did a little research and found that Mr. Woodriff's cousin was a convicted Death Eater."

"And what was his cousin convicted for?"

"Objection, your Honour!" Rutsklich said loudly. "Sebastien Woodriff's cousin is not on trial here!"

"Overruled," the judge replied. "Please continue."

"He was arrested for the murder of three people, and...and the torture of several others," Ms. Slanin said a little shakily. Fred wondered idly if perhaps Ms. Slanin was fit to be an Auror after all. "He had specialised in torture."

"Ah," Malkuivich murmured, continuing to pace. "And did you learn anything about the relationship between Mr. Woodriff and his cousin?"

"They were close," Ms. Slanin explained. "Very close in fact, if I do remember correctly."

"So, possibly, Mr. Woodriff could have learned torturing skills from his cousin?"

"Objection, your Honour! That's mere speculation!"

"Sustained," the judge announced. "Strip Mr. Malkuivich's last statement from the record."

But whether it was written in or not, the idea had been planted in the jury's head. Malkuivich smiled slightly, and George found himself a little amused; Malkuivich still had a few tricks up his sleeve. But still, at his words his index finger absent-mindly traced a large scar on his thigh, just barely distinguishable beneath the fabric covering it. Fred gently encircled his wrist and pulled it away, patting his hand. Fred knew every scar on his twin's body from the event.

"No more questions, your Honour," Malkuivich said, sitting down.

"Would the defence like to cross examine Ms. Slanin?"

"Yes, your Honour," Rutsklich responded, standing. "Ms. Slanin, earlier you said you had never heard of Mr. Woodriff before, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Had you ever heard of Mr. Brawning before either?"

"No."

"So these men, presumably, had a clean record?"

Ms. Slanin paused, thinking. "Yes, yes I do believe so."

Rutsklich nodded. "So Mr. Woodriff and Mr. Brawning had no record of ever being a Death Eater or hurting anyone for that matter. Why would they _willingly_ start now?" He paused for effect before saying, "No further questions."

George sighed. _Damn him,_ he thought. He was so sure Malkuivich had him. Charlie patted George's knee. "Don't worry, buddy, there's a long way to go still."

That was the part that worried him.

* * *

When everyone had been dismissed for the day, George wanted to just forget the whole thing. However, he could tell that people were running what they heard through their mind. Sebastien might have been trained by his cousin in torture. _It would make sense,_ George thought dryly. But he immediately scolded himself. _No, shut up! Don't let yourself think of that._

Lost in his berating, he didn't notice at first that everyone was watching him knit his eyebrows together and look slightly frustrated as they rode the Muggle bus to their house. But then the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up, and he was jerked out of his musings by the feel of six pairs of eyes on him. "Er..." George said, raising an eyebrow in slight amusement. "Can I help you?"

"How are you feeling, honey?" Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously.

George rolled his eyes. "Fine Mum. Can we not talk about it?"

"We probably _should_ talk about it -" Bill hedged a little nervously, not wanting to push but worried about how George was taking it.

"No we shouldn't," George interrupted firmly, fixing him with a hard look.

"George, it's really not good to keep things inside -" Charlie began saying.

"It's working pretty well for me, thanks," George said in a steely voice, every aspect about him silently screaming at everyone to leave it alone.

"But George, the guy with the cousin -"

"I think we all know I was tortured!" George suddenly burst angrily, causing the family to flinch and several strangers to jerk in surprise at his words. "Do you want me to spell it out for you? I was there for _twenty four bloody hours!_ That's all you need to know!" He felt so angry, but at who he wasn't quite sure. Himself? The Death Eaters? The world? George had spent the past four months blocking the memory from his mind, and having to look his attackers in the eyes, having to remember, left him just overwhelmed and at his breaking point.

Fred, sensing this quickly, growled, "Leave him alone. He doesn't want to talk, so leave it!" He saw other people staring at them and he barked, "What are you looking at?" They abruptly turned away and pretended the Weasley family wasn't there.

The rest of the ride was tense. George was glaring at the floor while the rest of the family awkwardly looked everywhere but at each other.

When they eventually got to the Burrow, George all but fled to his and Fred's bedroom and shut the door, pacing the room agitatedly. Fred wasn't too far behind, but he stepped softly into the room. "George?"

"Leave me alone, Fred," George snapped.

_Oh no you don't Georgie,_ Fred thought determinedly. His brother was not going to shut him out. "No. What's on your mind?"

George scowled at him but didn't answer. _If I had just been on better guard, this never would have happened! My damn family wouldn't be so worried and I would have never gone through that!_ He was such an _idiot!_

"George," Fred said warningly. He was seeing something on his face that he didn't like. Fred knew he blamed himself for everything, and he wasn't going to allow that. "This was never your fault."

George jumped at that, jerking his head to stare at Fred with slight astonishment. _I should have guessed,_ he thought wryly. _Fred can pretty much read my mind._ "I was stupid," George grumbled angrily, continuing to pace. "I didn't even bother to see if someone followed me. It was careless and stupid."

"George, shut up," Fred ordered in a firmly. "This is _not_ your fault! It was those bloody Death Eaters' fault, do you hear me? There was nothing you could have done."

George snorted at that. He could have made it out of the building faster; he could have put up more of a fight. There were things he could have done, he was positive of that. Fred strode across the room and grabbed George's shoulders tightly, determined to get this through to him. _"This is not your fault,"_ Fred nearly growled. However, the suddenness of the movement made George flinch away from him, like he was expecting to be hit. It sent a pain through the older twin and his gaze softened into one of sadness, letting him go. "George, I wasn't going to hit you," he said quietly.

"I know," George sighed, looking weary and suddenly much older than he really way. He almost seemed to crumple in on himself, slumping a little.

"George, don't keep me out," Fred said softly, looking pleadingly at his best friend. It hurt him more than he could say that George seemed to close off to him; they had never kept things from each other before. "I want to _help_ you."

"I know, Fred," George replied in a defeated tone, turning away to sit on his bed. "I know." George began massaging his temple where a headache began to rage. "But I don't know if you can."

"Tell me everything, Georgie," Fred asked imploringly, sitting beside him and pulling him into a one armed hug. "You told me bits of pieces, but not everything. You're going to drive yourself mad by keeping it to yourself."

"I can't, okay?" George said tiredly. "There are some things I just can't do, Fred. I don't know how I'm going to get it out in a few days' time."

Fred pulled back a bit to face him. "When you do, you look at me, okay? No one else. Right here." He pointed to his blue eyes to emphasise. "It's just you and me, like always. You're stronger than them, I know you are." He tucked George's head underneath his chin and rubbed his arm soothingly with the hand around still around his shoulders.

"Glad one of us thinks so," George said wryly.

* * *

"Hey George?"

George was laying on his bed with his hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He was really mulling things over, and then trying to _stop_ mulling things over. The more he thought, the more depressed he became. "Hmm?" George hummed absent-mindly, not looking up.

"Dinner's ready," Fred said, watching his brother cautiously. George had lost weight, too much weight in fact, since the episode because he had been too depressed to eat. Now they were trying to get him back to the bottomless pit he normally was, and he had been doing okay so far. But Fred was still wary.

"M'not hungry," George murmured.

Fred frowned. "George, c'mon, you barely ate all day."

"No, Fred, okay?" George replied firmly.

"No, not okay," Fred countered, coming to sit on his bed. "You need to eat. Now let's go. I'm not above carrying you," he warned, seeing that George wasn't moving.

George rolled his eyes, but stayed put. "You won't carry me, Fred."

Fred raised an eyebrow, a mischievous look on his face. "Oh really? Okay, I'm going to count to three. One -"

"You are _not_ using the counting thing on me," George said incredulously, staring at Fred in disbelief.

" - two -"

"You're mental, you know that?"

" - three!" Fred lunged forward and tackled George on the bed. Taken by surprise, clearly believing that Fred wouldn't really do it, George didn't stand a chance. Fred grabbed him and with a small grunt he managed to get George over his shoulder in a fireman carry.

"_Fred!"_ George shouted in mock-anger, but he was laughing at the same time. "You tosser! Put me down, for Merlin's sake!"

Fred grinned and merely made his way slowly to the stairs, though he inwardly winced at how light George was. George began hitting Fred's back, flailing his arms all about trying to get his twin to put him down. _"FRED!"_

"I warned you, dear brother of mine," Fred snickered, descending the stairs carefully so as not to drop him. He dodged a kick but he did receive an elbow to the head, though, in retaliation.

"Fred, seriously!" George cried, but there was still amusement in his voice.

"What's going on -?" Bill yelled, coming to the stairs. But he stopped and stared for a second before he burst out laughing. "Well, that's one way to get him down," he chuckled.

"This is ridiculous."

"Oh shut up, mate," Fred said cheerfully. "It's for your own good." George grumbled to himself and crossed his arms over Fred's shoulders.

The family watched in surprise as Fred made his way into the kitchen, following Bill, with George thrown over his shoulder. "He was being stubborn," Fred grinned at their expressions.

Charlie and Ginny began laughing and their parents smiled. Fred let him down in a chair and beamed at George's mock glare, ruffling his ginger hair. "You're a prat," he told him.

Fred shrugged good-naturedly and sat beside his twin. "I'm okay with that."

George rolled his eyes, but there was a slight smirk on his face. As his Mum began piling food on his plate, he said, "Honestly, though, I'm not hungry."

"I didn't carry you here so you could pout," Fred said, waving his fork warningly at him.

George scowled. "No one asked you do that, you git. I was perfectly fine upstairs."

"George," Mr. Weasley said firmly. "Eat. You're too thin." Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything, though her eyes were bloodshot. She still hadn't been acting the same since the trial had loomed.

The younger twin felt frustrated. He couldn't help it if he wasn't hungry. And they were all cornering him like it was merely George's stubbornness. "I don't particularly like seeing my food twice," George retorted, crossing his arms.

Fred frowned. "Can you try?"

George sighed, seeming to slump in his chair. He was tired of fighting. If they wanted him to throw up, fine. George just felt defeated, and he'd been feeling that way since he'd been attacked, but he thought he'd been getting better. He'd used every ounce of will power and defiance he had that day, and now it seemed like his reserve had dried up for good. "Sure," he murmured.

Fred blinked. "Really?"

George shrugged. "Well it's not like I have a choice, so, yeah, sure." He stabbed a potato and forced it into his mouth. _See you soon,_ George thought mournfully.

Charlie exchanged a helpless look with Bill. It was frightening to see their little brother give in so easily. George just didn't seem to want to resist anything anymore. And if he did, it only lasted a matter of seconds. George just didn't seem to care what he did, as long as everyone left him alone.

Fred felt so desperate. "Georgie..." he said softly, touching his hand. "What's wrong?"

George almost felt like laughing at that. Almost. "I'm just doing what you told me," was George's weak reply, looking slightly green as he shoved another piece of food down his throat.

"George..." Ginny said, looking afraid.

"George, stop," Mr. Weasley said, mildly alarmed. Where was his stubborn son? "You're going to make yourself sick."

_No one seemed to care about that before,_ George thought. But he did what he was told and just sat there, staring off into space. He was too tired to be frustrated. Maybe if he got some sleep some of his old stubbornness would come back. He hoped so.

"Honey, say something," Mrs. Weasley begged, her eyes glistening. This was her baby. And he was hurting, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I don't know what you want me to say," George answered.

"_Anything,"_ Bill said distressingly. "George, we're worried about you."

The younger twin remained silent. He knew they were, and he wished they wouldn't. He could feel Fred's anguished eyes on him, but the words that came out of his twin's mouth surprised him. "How about a game of Quidditch?"

George looked at him, eyebrows raised in astonishment. Fred winked at him. "Well? How about it?" Fred pressed, looking at everyone at the table. "It's been ages since we've done so, isn't that right George?"

George felt a small smile begin to creep on his face after a few moments. "I do believe you're right, dear brother of mine."

Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were so relieved they didn't hesitate to play. Even Mr. Weasley agreed to play to make the teams fair.

"George, Charlie, and I on one team!" Fred shouted, gleefully prancing to their broom cupboard. George couldn't help but laugh.

An old twinkle appeared in his eyes, something that had been gone for a while, as he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Last one there's a Slytherin!" and took off running.

"Oi!" Fred called, grinning as he chased after his twin.

Bill and Charlie felt their spirits lift and their hearts became light at the sudden change in George's demeanor. Ginny suddenly tore past them laughing, saying something about not being a rotten Slytherin, and nearly knocked both brothers over. But Charlie and Bill quickly took after them, happy for the first time that day.

* * *

"Fred, thanks," George said as they laid on the hill he himself had sat on just the day before, looking at the starry sky. "I was being right depressing, wasn't I?"

Fred turned and propped himself on his elbow, looking down at his twin. "You were honestly beginning to scare me, mate," he admitted. George grimaced. "I thought you might fall back into that hole of yours. So I said the first thing that came to mind, which, shockingly, happened to be our favourite little sport."

"Well, it worked," George said seriously, giving his brother an appreciative look. "If I get like that again, please slap me or something."

Fred smiled. "I'm just glad to have you back," he told him. "And I know this trial is going to be hard for you, but I'm going to be right beside you."

"Like you always are," George smirked, but there was nothing but admiration and gratitude in his eyes. But then he got a little fidgety. "Look, Fred..." he began, seeming unsure of how to word it. "Don't think you have to be there, though," he said. "I mean...it's...I didn't tell you things for a reason," he concluded softly.

Fred swallowed thickly, but reached a hand out to ruffle George's hair. "I know," he told him quietly. "But I want to help you. And as...as hard as it's going to be to hear...I need to know. I've been a bit of a fusspot lately," he said with a faint smile.

George grinned in amusement. "Fusspot?"

"It's a word," Fred argued, smacking George lightly on the shoulder. "But I think it's worse to not know," Fred continued in a low tone. "I keep torturing myself with what could have actually happened...I don't really remember much except the...the shock and the...the..."

George knew Fred was really struggling to get this out. The two didn't normally have heart-to-hearts mainly because they didn't normally need them. So whenever they did have them, it was always hard to find the right words. "Fred, I know what you mean, you don't need to say it," George said gently, offering him an out.

But to his surprise, Fred shook his head. "No, I need to," he replied solemnly. "I don't remember much except the shock and the...the pain -" Fred's voice faltered on that word. " - of seeing you like that. I think I subconsciously blocked it out. But now I don't know what happened, and it's killing me."

George sat up a little to give Fred a hug, holding tightly on to his best friend. Fred blinked back tears as he hugged him back. "I know," George murmured. "And I'm sorry this happened."

"Don't," Fred said fiercely, pulling back to look at him. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. _Nothing._ In fact, I'm still a little in awe of you to be honest."

George was taken aback and he looked at Fred in bewilderment. "Huh? For what?"

"You never broke," Fred said seriously. "Whatever happened to you - and I'm kind of afraid to know - never broke you." He shook his head a little in amazement. "You're by far the strongest person I know, and I'm proud of you, Georgie. I really am."

George felt himself get a little emotional at Fred's words. It was like Fred knew exactly what George needed to hear, yet it felt genuine. It meant more to George than he could ever say that Fred was his brother. He hugged his twin tightly once more. "Thanks, Freddie," he whispered.

Fred petted George's hair before they pulled back. "Anytime."

* * *

Review please and thank you :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much to **GeorgieForever, gwin, mebyrne, Aris1013, and anon **for reviewing! It means a lot and the reviews have been absolutely wonderful :D They're a great motivation! Personally, I'm a bit iffy about this chapter, but I don't want to pick and prod it to death, so here we are! :P I hope you all like it anyway :P

**Disclaimer: **I sadly own nothing, but I wish I did :P

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **T

* * *

_**By Your Side  
**_

**Chapter Four**

The morning started off rather slowly. There was much groaning and resistance on the twins' part on being up 'way too bloody early.' But Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't want to be late this time. The ride to the Ministry wasn't nearly as awkward as it was yesterday, and the family actually managed to chat about things that _didn't_ involve the case. Charlie told them a few dragon tales and Bill reckoned that he might be getting a promotion soon.

They weren't the most exciting topics, but anything to take their minds off of George's case was good enough for George. But as they approached the Ministry, everyone seemed to get antsy. The suspense on what would be uncovered weighed on everyone's shoulders, and George was nervous that they might not be able to handle it. But still, they walked into the courtroom and waited for everyone to file in.

"What are the odds they got attacked by a venomous snake and won't make it?" George asked Fred in an undertone, his tone more joking than not.

Fred chuckled a little. "I hate to say it, but probably not great." But he got a mischievous look on his face. "But it could be arranged."

George grinned. "Good."

Unfortunately, a few minutes later the jury began to enter and take their seats, and that meant that the two Death Eaters would be following them. And when Sebastien and Horace entered, they shot George cold glares, like they were promising him harm should they ever get the chance. Fred's sudden fury took him off guard, and he nearly lost it. The older twin stood completely this time and balled his fists, standing in front of his twin as if to protect him from shielding him from view. Charlie stood too, but placed a hand on Fred's shoulder to keep him from doing anything, though Charlie was seething. _Back the hell off,_ Charlie's glower seemed to say, but the two Death Eaters weren't fazed. They seemed to enjoy the reaction they got out of them.

George, meanwhile, stared at the ceiling as if he found the paneling to be particularly interesting. _'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts, teach us something please,' _George hummed in his head, trying to keep his mind focused on something trivial so nothing else could seep through. The trial started quite abruptly if George did say so himself, but he managed to block out the beginning completely, much to his relief.

'_Whether we be old and bald or young with scabby knees...'_

But a short segment cut through George's attempts to become temporarily deaf like a knife. " - gruesome pictures of George Weasley's injuries," Malkuivich said somberly. "If you do not think you can look, then please do not do so. But they will go around to everyone. Simply pass them to the next person without a glance if you do not wish to look."

'_Our heads could do with filling...'_ George sang louder in his head, feeling his heart sink. He had to keep himself distracted...but for Merlin's sake, did they _have_ to show _pictures?_

Fred's heart was pounding. This was it...he would find out what those bastards did to his brother. And now that the moment came, he was even more unsure of whether he really wanted to know.

Malkuivich had a list in front of him, and with a calm expression, read out, "The injuries George sustained were as follows: deep knife wounds on his legs and back -"

'_With some interesting stuff...'_ Fred gripped on to George's arm as if trying to remind himself that George was still here, still with him.

" - three broken ribs -"

'_For now they're bare and full of air...'_

" - a shattered tibia bone of his left leg -"

'_Dead flies and bits of fluff...'_

" - deep and extensive bruising on his face, arms, and abdomen -"

'_So teach us things worth knowing...'_

" - the use of the _Cruciatus_ curse for hours on end -" Mrs. Weasley buried her face into her husband's shoulder, muffling her sob. A strangled sound seemed to escape from Fred's mouth and his grip was painful on George's wrist. His family seemed to need physical contact in order to remind themselves that George was okay, that he lived, because Charlie grabbed hold of George's other wrist, albeit lightly, while Bill managed to reach his arm around to rest his hand on George's shoulder. Ginny merely gripped on to Fred, wide eyed.

'_Bring back what we've forgot...' _But George couldn't remember the next line.

"- and -" but Malkuivich stopped abruptly, the next thing seeming to stun him. But he cleared his throat nonetheless and continued, "- and alcohol poured on the open wounds."

There was a loud intake of breath throughout the court room, both from the list of injuries and the horrific images being passed along. George froze, each muscle locking in to place. He faintly heard his mother give another sob and the choked sounds of misery from his family, the most prominent from Fred. George shuddered violently as the memory shoved itself into his mind.

'_I'll ask you one more time,' Sebastien growled, seeming to be frustrated by George's will power. 'Where is that envelope?'_

_George, bleeding profusely and in terrible pain, sucked in a deep breath through his teeth and spat, 'Go to hell.'_

_Sebastien snarled, reaching into his 'torture bag' and pulled out a large glass bottle. 'Concentrated alcohol,' he hissed. 'Maybe this will loosen up your tongue.' He cracked it open and began to pour the substance into the wounds on George's leg. _

_White hot pain erupted and George screamed, writhing desperately to get away from it. But he couldn't; he was tied too tightly. _

'_Where is the envelope?' Sebastien roared, baring his teeth venomously. George bit his tongue so hard that blood filled his mouth. 'TELL ME WHERE IT IS!''_

George couldn't breathe. He could almost feel the excruciating pain right then and there.

Fred was alarmed to see George's face go white, his breathing become irregular, and his whole body tremble uncontrollably. He realised with detached horror that George was reliving the memory. Fighting back a sob of his own, Fred whispered desperately, voice thick with unshed tears, "Georgie, please, you're okay."

Charlie became aware and started to panic himself. "George..." But he too had the sense to keep his voice low.

"George, you're alright," Fred said pleadingly. "Listen to me, I will not let _anything_ happen to you. _Ever. _You're safe, George, they can't hurt you."

George closed his eyes, focusing on the comforting tones of his twin and trying to still his ragged breathing. Charlie glanced up and found some relief flood through him that no one seemed to notice George's break down. "Hey, buddy, you're going to be okay," he said, rubbing soothing circles on George's back. He was disturbed to feel some of the scars on George's back through his shirt.

"I can feel it, Fred," George whispered, his voice breaking from fear. "It hurts."

Fred's eyes began to really burn and he blinked furiously. "It's not real, mate, I promise, you're okay. Look at me." George pried his eyes open and looked right into Fred's identical blue eyes. Fred was anguished, but he hid it well. "Nothing will happen to you, not as long as I'm here. And I _will_ be. We will never separate again."

George's eyes were haunted, but he managed to calm down enough to nod. Fred squeezed his hand and offered a crooked smile. The younger twin took a deep breath and directed his attention back to the court room, trying to ignore his family's stares. Fred kept a hand, feather light, on the back of George's neck so as to remind him at all times that he was there.

Ginny tugged on Fred's sleeve until he looked at her. "Is George okay?" she asked worriedly, stealing a glance at Fred's identical brother.

Fred sighed and leaned over to say quietly, "Not really, but he's holding for now."

Ginny bit her lip and they straightened. Charlie, Bill, and their parents were utterly confused, but there wasn't much they could do at the moment.

_Just give me one minute with these bastards,_ Fred snarled in his head, clenching his free hand into a tight fist. He wanted nothing more than to wipe those _damn_ smirks from their faces.

" - do not seem like injuries someone who was under the _Imperius_ curse could inflict," Malkuivich reasoned. "People under this curse do not do things with such deliberate action. And under such a long period of control, how could one person have done so? Being awake for twenty-four hours is not easy, and to produce the _Imperius_ curse one must use absolute concentration. And certainly having two people control them is too precarious."

George stared at the wall opposite him, determined not to make any eye contact with anyone. He could feel people from the jury struggling to get a good look at him, but his eyes never wavered. Fred's cool hand moved in comforting circles on the back of his neck, constantly reminding him of his presence.

The trial went on for a little while like this, Malkuivich trying to drive home the concept that the Death Eaters couldn't have tortured George the way they did under the _Imperius_'s hold, before Kingsley was brought to the stand. George was surprised; he completely forgot that Kingsley was a part of this too.

"Mr. Kingsley," Malkuivich said, pacing as usual. "It is my understanding that you were the person who gave Mr. Weasley the task of retrieving the envelope, is that right?"

Kingsley looked guilty. "Yes."

"Can you tell us a little bit about it?"

Kingsley nodded. "A while ago a few of my colleagues got wind of plans to assassinate the Muggle Prime Minister. Now when my good friend and Auror gave me the news, I was visiting the Weasleys and their children, Fred and George, overheard." George couldn't help but smirk at that. Kingsley had completely glossed over the Order, their family's part in it, and that they had all been at Headquartres at the time. He wasn't lying; the Weasleys were there had he had technically visited them. Kingsley was just not giving specifics.

"Every Auror I knew had other equally important matters to attend to, and I was desperate for help. So when Fred and George offered their assistance, who was I to refuse? They were of age and skilled wizards. The job was never supposed to be dangerous. Fred Weasley, George's twin, ironically had probably the most 'dangerous' part, which was to see if he could ask around and get any information. All George was supposed to do was retrieve the letter." Kingsley shook his head remorsefully. "If I'd known what would have happened to him, I never would have sent him."

Malkuivich nodded sympathetically. "It must have been surprising to hear that George had been kidnapped." Kingsley nodded, shooting George an apologetic look. "Did you have any suspicions on who had been behind it at the time?"

"Not at the time," Kingsley replied. "But we managed to identify a single fingerprint off of Mr. Millard's jacket that matched a Mr. Sebastien Woodriff. We weren't altogether surprised; there had been stories on him," Kingsley said, narrowing his eyes at the Death Eater. "But he had never been caught or convicted of any crimes. Hence the supposedly 'clean record.'"

"What were the stories about?"

"Objection!" Rutsklich called, standing up. "This has nothing to do with the present case!"

"Overruled," the judge said.

Malkuivich smiled slightly. "On the contrary, I think this might have everything to do with this case. Please go on, Mr. Kingsley."

Kingsley cast Rutsklich a disapproving look before saying, "They were stories on torture and murder, actually. Quite like this one, only I suppose he didn't count on Fred's almost scary determination." Identical grins flashed on the twins' faces despite the situation, causing some people to chuckle. "I might vaguely remember something about Fred saying that he would feed everyone to Blast-Ended Skrewts if we didn't find George within twenty-four hours." There was another round of chuckles, and people glanced at the pair amusedly. But then Kingsley grew serious once more. "And the methods of torture, if I recall correctly, were almost exactly like this one."

"Objection!" Rutsklich shouted furiously. "There is no proven evidence on any of these!" The hint that he thought Kingsley to be lying made Fred grit his teeth, all humour gone from his face.

"Overruled," the judge said, almost as if bored and annoyed at Rutsklich's constant interruption. "Let the witness finish his testimony."

Kingsley glared at the man, hearing the implication as well. "I don't suppose you know who I am, Mr. Rutsklich," he said in a hard voice. "But if you did, you wouldn't dare make that claim. I am a strong believer in justice and no matter who is on trial, I wouldn't lie, and certainly not concerning someone I know. I would be careful who you say that to." Rutsklich flushed a little and George felt triumphant.

Kingsley soon stepped down and the judge called for a lunch break. George sank heavily into his chair, relief filling him. _Finally._

But a low uttered curse was barely heard, and George glanced at Fred in confusion. But when he followed his twin's angered stare, his heart sank. Reporters.

"Mr. Weasley, how do you feel seeing your assaulters so soon after you were tortured?" one lady shouted out, fighting other reporters to try and get a better angle.

"What do you think you'll do if they are set free?"

"Are you likely to plan revenge?"

"Do you feel lucky to be alive?"

George, stunned, merely stared as they got closer. The callousness and insensitivity of these people enraged his family. But Fred grabbed George's arm and Bill furiously shoved people out of their way, hissing, "No comment," at everyone he passed. An invisible, impregnable barrier seemed to have been erected around George, however, by the way Fred hovered around him. No one dared get too close because Fred gave off a strong feeling that if they did, he'd attack them mercilessly. And when they finally broke away from the mob, George felt like he had run a marathon; he was spent.

Fred directed him without a word to a table far away from everyone else, and the family followed. The plates were already magically filled with food and George's stomach flipped dangerously at the sight of it.

Charlie, despite the reporters, grinned broadly. "No one talk to me for a few minutes," he announced. "I want that moment when Kingsley shot that prat down forever engrained in my mind."

"The nerve of him, though!" Mrs. Weasley said angrily. "Saying that Kingsley would lie about something like this! Especially when it's about my son!"

"He's a git," Bill agreed, stabbing his food with unnecessary force.

"Hey Gin," Fred said. "If you want to go use that Bat-Bogey Hex on Rutsklich, George and I will cover for you."

Ginny smiled evilly, twirling her wand. "Give me one minute with him and there won't be enough left to fill a teaspoon."

George smiled at everyone appreciatively. "I can think of two other people you can do that too," he said with a crooked smile.

Ginny's eyes flashed at the implication. "With pleasure," she growled with venom in her voice.

"I'll help with that one," Bill said firmly. "They should be left in Azkaban to rot."

"Or shut in a pyramid," Fred piped up. "Shame we didn't manage it with Percy, though," he added with a grumble. How could Percy not be here for his brother? True, he might not know, but Fred wasn't sure he'd ever forgive him for that; Percy _should_ have been here to know and not have been a prat and left!

"Or eaten by a dragon," Charlie grinned, adding to the list. "No, wait, burned first then eaten."

"I, for one, opt to use a couple of misused Muggle items I've confiscated over the years," Mr. Weasley, to everyone's surprise, commented.

George felt a rush of affection for his entire family just then. "Thanks, guys," he said sincerely. "I know I haven't been the easiest person to live with lately, but it means a lot that you're here."

"Easiest person to live with..." Fred muttered, shaking his head at his twin. Didn't he know that they didn't _care?_ That George had every right to be depressed and angry? That, considering what happened, George had perhaps been _too_ easy to live with?

"Don't be silly, dear," Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "We love you no matter what, and we _certainly_ are not letting you go through this on your own!" She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, seeming flustered that she was getting emotional so easily. "Now eat something, George, you're far too skinny," she told him gently.

George grimaced and he could almost hear his stomach cry out in protest. "Er..."

"George, listen to your mother," Mr. Weasley said. "You need to eat."

George for the first time recognised how odd it was to hear those words. Normally, he and the rest of the Weasley boys ate just about everything except for the table cloth. Now, George couldn't remember the last time he had a full meal.

"George, you have to eat something," Fred murmured in his twin's ear. He himself felt anxious at the fact that George seemed to be getting thinner by the day.

The younger twin cringed at the worry in his voice. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Sighing, George inwardly told his stomach to shut up and began to eat as much as he could before the nausea became unbearable. Fred looked relieved, and George knew that he would eat even though it made him sick just to put his brother at ease. He was just nervous that his stomach might rebel in the middle of the trial.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **A huge thank you to **gwin, mebyrne, Submarine19, The Hiccup pup, GeorgieForever, Aris1013, anon, MyOwnPurpleWorld,** and **Spiralling-Down **for reviewing! :) Your reviews are so nice and inspiring and I sincerely appreciate all of you for reviewing every chapter; it's so great to know I have dedicated readers! :D I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer: **If I owned anything...I'd be one happy girl :D

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **T

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_**By Your Side  
**_

**Chapter Five**

When the judge called everyone back into the courtroom, George could feel the food he'd forced down churn sickeningly in his stomach, but he tried to ignore it. They all took their seats and the two men on trial were brought back in. Immediately a wave of tension crashed over the entire room as soon as the Death Eaters stepped foot inside. George merely looked at the ceiling and twiddled his thumbs so as to not meet his attackers' eyes, but he could feel Fred and Charlie stiffen beside him.

George hummed a tuneless song in his head to try and keep himself distracted and distant; the last thing he needed was another flashback. Fred, meanwhile, settled on a glower, leaning forward slightly so he could move in front of his twin should they dare to look at him. He didn't have to look to know that Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were doing the exact same thing.

But to their surprise, the two defendants didn't so much as glance at them. "They've probably been told by their lawyer not to look at us," Ginny grumbled to Fred.

Fred felt both annoyed and relieved at that. Relieved, for obvious reasons, yet annoyed because the glares must have been noticed at some point by the jury, and he wanted them to dig their own grave.

The trial took off instantly with Malkuivich calling a Mr. Chamberland to the stand. Fred recognised him immediately, though, because he had been one of the people who helped to find his twin.

"State your name for the record, please."

"Oscar Chamberland."

"Mr. Chamberland," Malkuivich said, not looking at the man as usual. "Could you tell us what you do for a living?"

"I'm in charge of finding missing persons," Chamberland answered gruffly, his voice deep and rugged.

"You were in charge of finding George Weasley, were you not?"

"Yes."

"Could you please tell us about it?" Malkuivich asked. He kept the question broad so Rutsklich couldn't object at any time that he wasn't 'answering the question.'

Chamberland nodded. "I knew, of course, what Mr. Weasley and his brother were doing. We're notified directly about anyone who deals with intercepting and/or receiving information such as these boys were doing. It's precautionary most of the time, but I dare say it helped us tremendously in this situation."

Malkuivich nodded. "And when did you know that George had gone missing?"

"When we're notified, we're given a certain time block on when a task is to be completed," Chamberland explained. "If we don't hear word on their arrival, we act immediately. This, of course, was not a random kidnapping. It was a government issue now, and the usual 'wait twenty-four hours before declaring someone missing' doesn't apply. Though we didn't get too far before that twin of his tracked Mr. Kingsley and I down and started screaming at us to find him soon," he added wryly.

Fred grinned sheepishly and George gave Fred's hand an affectionate squeeze. The younger twin was touched at that, but of course, he knew he would do the exact same thing had it been the other way around. George shivered slightly at the thought. In a way, he was glad it had been him that had been taken and not Fred.

Malkuivich smiled. "And how did you go about finding him?"

"It was tricky," Chamberland admitted. "We didn't have a moment to spare but we didn't know who took him. The Death Eaters had been unidentified as the Aurors were under the impression that, had things worked out correctly, they would figure that out later. The only thing we could really do while we tried to think it through was send some people to ask around. After a few hours, though, we were in luck. Mr. Millard confessed to seeing Mr. Weasley and proceeded to describe the two who had been with him. When he said that he had been bumped aside, we decided to run a check for DNA. Our wands zeroed in on a single finger print and identified it as Sebastien Woodriff. But we still didn't know where he was, and that Mr. Brawning had indeed been his partner."

"We spent hours debating, but we had little to go on," Chamberland continued. Fred remembered with a slight wince the impatience he had displayed while they debated. He had been forced out of the room several times because he was deemed 'hysterical.' "But hours later, when we were about to give up for the night, Ms. Slanin came to me and told me about Sebastien's cousin. We did more research on him and discovered a couple of things. One was that his cousin died merely days after his imprisonment due to unknown causes, and the other was that he –" but the way Chamberland said 'he' gave Fred the impression that he wanted to tack 'that sick bastard' on the end. "– had his own dungeon in the mansion he had previously owned. He brought his victims there because it would be the last place they'd expect, and the walls were reinforced so their screams wouldn't be heard."

Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth with a shaky hand, and her husband got the horrible feeling that she was covering up a scream of her own. Mr. Weasley himself had his hands balled into fists, his nails digging painfully into his palm. He was not a violent man, but a sudden urge to beat the holy hell out of the two men before him consumed him entirely. But he had enough sense left to hold himself back.

"We got the feeling that Sebastien would probably use his cousin's dungeon," Chamberland continued, "because with his cousin dead there would be no need to search it anymore for clues; there are no trials for dead criminals, and no one would think of looking there. It took us a long time to find it, though," he scowled. "It was almost like fate was working against us. There were several addresses listed – why, I don't know – and of course the right one was the one we checked last. Almost twenty four hours had passed and I remember us all praying that we were on the right track, because if everything was true, George, if he was still alive, probably wouldn't be for much longer."

Fred's hold on George's hand was so tight it was painful. The fact that Fred had come so close to losing him hit the older twin hard once more and he swallowed thickly. His gaze kept flitting back towards George as if to reassure himself that it really was George beside him.

"And were you the one to find him?" Malkuivich asked him.

"No," Chamberland responded, shaking his head and looking at a certain ginger. "Fred found him."

There were a few gasps in the jury and everyone seemed to stare at Fred. George paled a bit, his heart thumping in his chest. Even though George knew this already, he sorely wished that Fred hadn't seen him chained to the wall like that, and it pained him to know that he did.

"Fred did?" Malkuivich asked in slight surprise. "How did Fred find him?"

"Well, he was accompanied by other Aurors as well as myself," Champerland explained. "We hadn't intended on letting him come, but after he ranted for a good five minutes that 'no slimy, good-for-nothing Ministry official would lay a hand on his brother,' we admitted defeat." The last part Chamberland said with a bit of amusement, causing some people to crack a smile.

George, despite his distress, couldn't help but grin a little at Fred at that, and he gave him a wink. Every person in the room could see that they cared very deeply for each other, and while it warmed some hearts, one distinct person began to plan.

"Fred was the only one who went in to the dungeon after Mr. Woodriff and Mr. Brawning had been successfully subdued. The other Aurors and I stood guard because Fred insisted - and he wouldn't take no for an answer - that he be the one to retrieve Mr. Weasley. I…I'll never forget the look on his face when he came back up with his brother in his arms," he said softly.

Fred himself went completely white at the memory, and he found himself gripping on to George's arm in favour of his hand. The sight of George all mangled and at Death's door sent a fresh wave of agony through him. Fred had always been protective of his twin. He thought that it was probably due to the fact that he was a couple minutes older, but nevertheless, Fred was always known for being extremely volatile whenever George was sick or hurt. As a child he'd throw huge fits if they couldn't cure him _right away,_ and even as an adult he got upset.

Of course, George got that way too, but he didn't angry so much as scared. He wouldn't leave Fred's side for anything, almost as if he were afraid that Fred would disappear if he left the room, even for a few minutes.

Fred, at the moment, let out a low, choked sound and George winced at it. He wanted to comfort him, but he found he couldn't move. All he could do was stare wide-eyed at Mr. Chamberland as if begging him to tell him it wasn't true.

Mrs. Weasley was crying freely now, and her husband was holding her gently, trying to quell the pained mother. Ginny, always known for never crying, couldn't help but let a few tears trail down her cheeks. She loved her brothers, every single one of them. But she had always felt that she was more like Fred and George than anyone else and was therefore closer to them even if she didn't get to see them a lot. And it hurt and scared her terribly to hear about George being so badly injured.

Charlie and Bill seemed to have similar reactions. Shock, pure and honest shock was written all over their faces. They almost looked incredulous at what Mr. Chamberland was saying. The two hadn't been able to see George until weeks later, and he had healed some by then. And they certainly didn't want to feel what Fred felt when he first saw him.

Malkuivich seemed to watch the family's reaction sadly, not truly expecting that either. He was a father himself, and thinking about something like this happening to his son or daughter made him all the more determined to get Sebastien and Horace thrown in Azkaban for life. But, he had work to do, so he quickly shook himself and asked gently, "Would you be able to describe it for the jury?" His tone suggested that Chamberland could refuse if he wanted to.

Chamberland took a deep breath and nodded. "Fred looked like his entire world had died that night," he said quietly. "There were tears running down his face and all he could do was hold his brother and say over and over again was, 'It's okay, Georgie, you're safe now.'" Some people began to dab at their eyes and Fred didn't even have it in him to feel embarrassed.

George suddenly reached over and hugged him tightly. It was tearing him up inside to hear about his brother's reaction. Fred, if possible, held on to him tighter, burying his face in George's shoulder. He knew he should feel ashamed that he was the one breaking down when it had been George who had lived through hell, but at the moment he didn't care.

Malkuivich patiently waited until both brothers seemed composed enough for him to nod and say softly, "Please continue," to Chamberland.

"Fred didn't react well when we told him he had to let George go to St. Mungo's," Chamberland said thickly. "It...we damn near had to drag him bodily away. I don't think I've ever seen my team so emotional before either."

Malkuivich sensed that that was all Mr. Chamberland would be able to say and said kindly, "Thank you. No further questions."

"Would the defence like to cross examine Mr. Chamberland?" the judge asked, his voice wavering only a little; it was obvious he was trying to remain neutral and impassive with difficulty.

"Yes," Rutsklich answered, standing up. "As touching as it was to hear all that," he said, his voice a failed attempt to be sympathetic. "I have to ask. Was there any evidence that any of this had been committed by two people not under the _Imperius_ curse?"

"You'll excuse me, Mr. Rutsklich, but I wasn't particularly paying attention to the scenery," Chamberland said icily.

"Ah yes," Rutsklich said with a slight smile. "But, if I may, none of this is really of any importance to the case itself then is it?"

George was thoroughly taken aback, and everyone began to snarl and growl. Even Malkuivich and some of the jurors looked angry.

"Not of any importance?" Chamberland repeated incredulously. "Good God, man, did you not hear a word I said?"

"I did," Rutsklich said patiently. "But I think it has already been established that there is no doubt what Mr. Woodriff and Mr. Brawning had done. It's whether they had meant to do it, and by the sound of it, it doesn't sound like anyone could do such a thing unless they were being controlled - "

Chamberland gaped at him. "Have you no heart?"

" - so therefore, whatever they've done to Mr. Weasley doesn't matter," Rutsklich continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Because there is no proof as of yet that they had been themselves. It was a waste of _time."_

George stared dumbly at Rutsklich. He figured he would be infuriated later, but at the moment he was just stunned. _"Bullshit!"_ Fred shouted furiously, standing up, shaking with rage. "A waste of time? How _dare_ you try to make bloody excuses for what those two sick bastards did to my brother! You're just as twisted as they are!"

"Mr. Weasley!" the judge yelled. "Compose yourself or you will be escorted out of the courtroom!"

Charlie, trembling with fury himself, jumped up himself and growled, "Are you not hearing what this man is saying? He's got _no_ right to just sit there and -"

"Enough!" the judge bellowed. "One more outburst from the Weasley family and everyone except for George will be evacuated from this courtroom and not be allowed back! Do I make myself clear?"

Fred clenched his jaw tightly and glared at the judge for a few more moments before he sat back down stiffly, Charlie following suit.

The judge then turned to look disapprovingly at Rutsklich. "There was no need for that," he said firmly. "You are amidst a grieving family and are to show them proper respect. Strip Mr. Rutsklich's statement out of the record."

Fred was seething. But his first priority was his brother, so he glanced at George and found him staring off into space, his face still surprised.

_A waste of time? My brother's pain is a waste of time? My torture is of no importance?_ George's heart sank. Why have the trial, then, if none of that mattered? He realised with a stab of horror that unless they could prove that Sebastien and Horace had done it without means of the _Imperius_ curse, his attackers would be acquitted.

And they would come after him. It was clear in the glares he received every time they looked at him. They were gunning for revenge, and if set free, George might as well say goodbye to his life.

He put his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees, and groaned slightly. The nightmare didn't stop that day that the Order had found him. The nightmare had merely been brewing under the surface and could very possibly make a comeback. Only this time, they probably wouldn't make the same mistakes again.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Hi guys, I'm sorry for the late update, but I've been really stressed with finals as of late :/ So this chapter isn't edited so if there's any mistakes, I'm sorry! But I hope you guys like it anyway :) And a huge thank you to **gwin, mebyrne, The Hiccup pup, GeorgieForever, Aris1013,** and** Spiralling-Down **for reviewing! You guys are awesome :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything!

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **T

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_**By Your Side**_

**Chapter Six  
**

Fred worriedly poked George's shoulder as his brother hid his face in his hands and let out a low moan. "George?"

But George shook his head. He didn't know how they were going to prove that Sebastien and Horace hadn't been under the _Imperius_ curse. George didn't even know if you _could_ prove it.

"Hey, buddy, come on," he heard another voice.

Bill. George sighed and lifted his head, and to his surprise the room was half empty. "Everyone's going home now," Charlie said softly. George nodded numbly and followed his family as if in a daze.

Everyone watched George apprehensively the whole way home, but George didn't seem to notice. In fact, he didn't even know they were home until he tripped over a gnome and landed flat on his face. Cursing, George picked himself up, but not before Fred had rushed over to him and asked if he was okay.

George didn't answer. He brushed the dirt off his clothes but didn't look at Fred's concerned eyes. The younger twin shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, and George wondered idly how many more sunsets he'd be able to witness.

Fred didn't move and simply mimicked his brother's movements, looking at the sky with him. "You remember that constellation we found when we were eight?"

George didn't know why he was asking him this; the stars weren't even visible yet. "Yeah. It looked like a gremlin or something."

Fred nodded. "And remember when we got all excited and told our parents, but they didn't believe us because they said no such thing existed?"

George nodded slowly, confused. "Uh-huh...?"

Fred looked at him. "I think it was real because we believed it was real. I still do, in fact."

The younger twin was still puzzled. "What's this about?"

"Look, those Death Eaters are going to jail, Georgie, no matter what warped things come out of Rutsklich's mouth. I have to believe that. _You_ have to believe that."

A strange expression appeared on George's face and he sat down on the grass. Fred sat down as well, watching him closely. "I swore I saw that same constellation through one of the windows when the Death Eaters brought me in to that house," George said, continuing to look at the sky. "'Course I was a little out of it, but I vaguely remember wishing upon it that you would find me. And you did." George glanced at Fred and continued with a wry, humourless smile, "But I don't think wishing is going to save me this time, Freddie."

Fred found he couldn't speak for a few moments, a lump forming in his throat. "Well then we make it happen ourselves," Fred managed to get out determinedly. "They're not going free."

George didn't answer and laid on his back, closing his eyes. He was tired of this whole thing. But a sudden pop a slight distance away caused both gingers to jump to their feet in an instant, their hearts thumping wildly. Fred instantly pushed George behind him, his stance protective, and held out an arm to keep George from coming into view. He whipped out his wand and bared his teeth, looking oddly like a lion ready to attack before a familiar voice drifted towards them. "It's alright, Mr. Weasley, it's just me."

Fred relaxed only a little, quirking up an eyebrow in surprise. "Mr. Malkuivich?"

George's lawyer came in to view and looked slightly amused at the position they were in. "I promise not to attack if I can ask the same from you," he chuckled, seeing that Fred still guarded his twin like Mr. Malkuivich was a Death Eater in disguise.

Fred cracked a grin and relaxed fully, letting a slightly bemused George move to stand beside him. "What are you doing here?" George inquired curiously.

"Here, let's talk about it inside," Malkuivich replied pleasantly.

Fred and George exchanged glances; they didn't like how this sounded. But nevertheless, they followed him hesitantly, keeping close to one another. Their family had obviously not realised that the twins hadn't come in with them, for they looked up in surprise to find them just strolling in. Or perhaps they were politely giving them space, but nevertheless, their absence was quickly replaced by the presence of their visitor.

"Mr. Malkuivich?" Mr. Weasley said in surprise. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Fine, fine," the lawyer waved his hand airily. "But I wanted to discuss something with you. If we could all have a seat?"

The family nodded dumbly and filed into the living room and sat down. "I came to a sudden realisation today," Malkuivich began to say, "and I think it would help us win this case. The problem is that it would require a great sacrifice from you, Fred."

Fred looked shocked. "Me?"

"Thanks for coming, anyway," George said, his features hardening. Fred would not make any kind of sacrifice on his behalf.

"Why is it necessary?" Charlie prodded. "I mean, we're not _losing,_ are we?"

"Knowing that Sebastien's cousin's dead, we never know," Malkuivich said gravely. "I really had hoped Mr. Chamberland would leave that bit out. Compassion works in weird ways, Mr. Weasley," he explained, addressing Charlie's confused look. "I've seen it happen before. The case goes well until the jury discusses the verdict. When all of the facts are brought in, there is always one person who remembers the death of a relation to the defendant and sometimes it had no effect on the outcome. But sometimes that _little_ detail could sway the jury into believing that it had only been grief, and nothing more. Those who have lost someone can sympathise with the defendant's feelings and sometimes that's all it takes to have someone go free."

"That's rubbish!" Ginny said angrily. "Why should that even matter?"

Malkuivich gave her a sad smile. "The world isn't always fair," he replied tiredly. "And the state of our government is far from perfect. We're living in harsh times, and in a time where people are dying left and right, you never know what emotions could be brought up in the jury room."

Bill, however, asked suspiciously, "What would he have to do?"

"It doesn't matter, because he's not doing it," George replied angrily.

"Give a testimony," Malkuivich answered, regardless of George's protests. "Fred was the only person to go down into the dungeon. If he could describe it, perhaps offer details of it to prove that Sebastien and Horace were very aware of what they were doing, we might be successful yet."

"No," George said firmly. "Absolutely not."

Fred didn't particularly like this idea; he spent most of his time trying to _not_ think about finding George in the dungeon. But if it would help his brother…

"Of course, George I'm afraid will have to give his own recount of his experience," Malkuivich continued somberly. "But if Fred were to describe everything he saw when he went down to retrieve George, and George told from his own perspective what he himself heard and saw, I do believe that the odds would definitely be in our favour."

Feeling his resolve solidify at the mention that George would be speaking, Fred took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, okay. I'll do it."

"No, you won't," George snapped, giving him a glare.

"George, if it helps you, I'm doing it," Fred countered stubbornly.

"Will it really?" Charlie asked, looking torn.

"I think it could very well be the one thing that could push us to victory," Malkuivich responded patiently. "You are not being forced to do it, Mr. Weasley," he added to the older twin. "It's just a suggestion. But I think it would help incomprehensibly."

"He's not speaking," George said in an annoyed voice.

"Don't be thick," Fred retorted.

"I'm not being thick, you prat, you're the one who's being mental."

"Mr. Malkuivich, I'll speak tomorrow."

"Good man," Malkuivich smiled warmly.

George looked furious and wrenched himself from the chair. He stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to his and Fred's room.

Fred winced a bit and gave Malkuivich an apologetic look before running after him.

The younger twin didn't stop when he slammed the door, heading immediately towards the window and throwing it up. Full of pent-up anger, he swung his legs over and jumped just as he heard the door creak open.

"George?" Fred said hesitantly, opening the door. He was slightly horrified to see a flash of ginger hair disappear out of the window. _"George!"_

Without missing a beat, Fred jumped after his twin and hit the ground heavily. Swearing under his breath at the stinging pain in his feet, he lit his wand and searched wildly for signs of his brother.

George had begun running as soon as he hit the ground, anger at what Malkuivich had told Fred to do, at what Fred had _agreed_ to doing driving him forward. He faintly heard Fred call his name in a panicked voice, and he reckoned he'd feel incredibly guilty later for scaring him. Impulsiveness was usually more of a Fred trait than his own, but before he knew it he was dashing in Merlin knew what direction and indignantly cursing what he considered Fred's stupidity.

The last thing George wanted to hear was Fred's reaction to seeing him beaten and nearly dead. Okay, so maybe giving his own testimony was slightly above that, but it was a close contest. He hated the idea that Fred had been subjected to carrying his dying twin from the place where he had been tortured, the room reeking of blood and sweat. George knew the dungeon by heart, as it was the place he visited every night in his nightmares, and he shuddered to think of what it would be like to find Fred there if the roles were switched.

True, George felt bad for taking off, and he knew there'd be hell to pay when he got back. But his feet couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop driving him forward and away from the problems that plagued him. He was furious that two men could do this to him, and even angrier at himself for _letting_ them continue to torment him months later.

George had never been one to dwell on unpleasant experiences, but something this traumatic had ever happened to him before. Sure, he's had his fair share of broken bones and more lectures than he could count, but those were easily brushed aside. But this he couldn't get away from.

After running for what felt like an eternity, George came to a stop, panting heavily. It was then that he stopped to wonder where he was. He seemed to be surrounded by trees, but George couldn't remember how he got there. Panic began to creep in, but he forced himself to calm down.

George leaned against the nearest tree and closed his eyes. He'd find out later how to get out. But for the time being, he was just going to relish in the peace and quiet of an area unknown.

* * *

Fred, meanwhile, was having a full-blown heart attack. He was sprinting in different directions and shouting at the top of his lungs for George to get his arse back here. Panting, he tried to force himself to calm down and think. He didn't suppose that George would have an area in mind when he did something this impulsive, so he was completely lost.

_Wait!_ He thought, a light bulb going off in his head. Fred put the wand in his hand and said, "Point me." The wand spun to the west and Fred, excited now, took off in that direction. He stopped several times to double check he was going the right way, but it seemed that George had stopped.

Fred nearly decapitated himself several times as he flew through the thick branches of trees and overgrown roots before he spotted George leaning against a thick trunk. Fred's initial reaction was overwhelming relief; George didn't look harmed in any way. But that was quickly overshadowed by rage. "What the _bloody hell_ was that?"

George jumped, whipping his head to his left, eyes wide. At Fred's furious glare, the younger twin's face went a bit red and he looked ashamed of himself. "Er…hi." In his head, however, he was cursing himself. He was hoping he could have delayed this particular meeting for later.

"_Hi?"_ Fred spluttered in anger. "Is that all you have to say! _HI?_ You scared the bloody hell out of me, you stupid git! You just took off! You jumped out of the bloody window and just _ran!"_ Fred resisted lurching forward and beating the holy hell out of him, but it was tempting.

"Sorry," George murmured, seeming to shrink away from Fred's voice. Fred, despite his anger towards him, hated how George was looking; he almost looked like he was _afraid_ of him.

"No, explanation?" Fred pressed in a hard, angry voice. "Just a hello and a sorry and that's it? What is wrong with you?"

George wasn't looking at him and he tried to keep his face impassive, but on the inside he was having a panic attack. He couldn't remember the last time Fred had been this mad at him – or ever mad at him - and it terrified him. George knew he couldn't get through this trial without him, and he was scared out of his mind that Fred might start thinking that maybe George deserved it, that maybe Fred wouldn't care what happened to him.

George slid down the trunk until he was sitting on the dirt, lost in his spiral of frightening thoughts. Fred's fury disappeared instantaneously at that, worry taking over. He stepped cautiously forward, not wanting to startle him, before sinking to the ground beside him. "Hey, George, are you okay?" he asked softly, placing a hand on George's shoulder. He was horrified to find him shaking.

"I'm sorry…" George choked out, trembling fiercely now.

Fred felt something in him break a little at the sound of his voice as, acting on instinct, he pulled George into a tight hug. "No, Georgie, don't…I'm sorry. You just scared the hell out of me, mate." His voice sounded thick with emotion as he continued, "Don't do it again. If you're mad at me, punch me in the face for all I care. Even use that Bat-Bogey Hex Ginny's so good at. Just don't take off again. Please."

George nodded silently. He didn't have it in himself to feel embarrassed by his sudden lack of composure. Resting his head on Fred's shoulder, he felt more than heard Fred comforting him as only he knew how and had grown rather adept at. He knew he shouldn't have run, but he wasn't thinking. All he knew was that he was angry at Fred, angry at Malkuivich, angry at _everything._ George had often taken a walk without anyone knowing to clear his head, so it was a kind of kneejerk reaction to finding out that Fred would be testifying the next day.

Fred, meanwhile, was internally smacking himself for a number of reasons. The most obvious one being that he had obviously distressed George by yelling at him, and while he was upset with him for running, he never wanted George to crumble in on himself like that. He felt he should have known better, what with George still being terrorised by those bloody Death Eaters in those God-awful flashbacks of his. Of course he wouldn't respond well to being chewed out like that, especially by Fred. He felt like an awful brother and tightened his hold on him. Fred was a little wary about how he would react tomorrow.

But the testimony was another thing. He had rashly promised to tell the court exactly what he had seen, but the problem was, he couldn't remember. The scene had been so horrifying to him, he had been so terrified that George was dead or about to die that his mind had repressed it. He remembered up until he flew down the stairs into the dungeon, and then a few weeks later when George was more or less stable and healing well. Anything between that was a blur. But he didn't want to ask George about it because, one, he might get angry at him again, and two, he might stir something in his subconscious and force himself to relive the whole ordeal.

And what about those flashbacks? How on earth was George expected to explain in detail what happened to him without having a flashback? They were absolutely frightening to witness. Every time George would go as stiff as a board and have a look of pure terror on his face. His eyes would glaze over and he would unknowingly begin to say what he had said at the time out loud like it was really happening right then and there. Sometimes he'd break down completely or begin to scream if something particularly agonising was being replayed. Each and every time it happened scared Fred about as much as the first time did, and he always found himself clutching on to him for dear life, pleading and consoling him at the same time.

Asking George was out of the question, so how on earth was Fred supposed to remember?

Letting out a deep breath, Fred decided it was time to head back regardless of Fred's preparation for tomorrow's events. George seemed to have calmed down a bit and was lightly dozing in the crook of Fred's neck when he was gently shaken awake. "I don't know about you," the older twin said in a low voice so as to not surprise him, "but I don't particularly want to spend the night under a tree."

George yawned and grinned lazily, ostensibly too tired to acknowledge the fact that he was nearly drooling on his brother's shoulder. "'S too far away," he whined, closing his eyes.

Fred chuckled. "C'mon, up you get."

Having the grace of a drunken bear when tired, George nearly tripped face first into several trees as they made their way back to the house. Fred had given up on letting George walk on his own and supported half of his weight the whole exhausting way home. He could have sworn George had fallen back to sleep somewhere in between the time they had started walking to when they reached the house. But nevertheless, they managed to shimmy through the window and George immediately flopped on his bed and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. Really, George could sleep through a hurricane. When he wasn't having nightmares, of course.

Fred smiled fondly at him and promptly tucked George's many haphazardly strewn limbs under the sheets, making sure he looked comfortable before he headed to his own bed.

He stared at the ceiling like it would open up and drop the answer he so desperately needed on to his lap. What was he going to say tomorrow? Fred was normally brilliant at making things up on the spot, but this wasn't something he could fabricate. It had to be the absolute truth or things would go very badly for them. But he couldn't bloody _remember!_

_Okay, okay, think,_ Fred instructed himself sternly. He couldn't beat around the bush on this one; he had to brutally force himself to recount every single detail. Even if it took him all night.

* * *

Reviews would be fantastic, please and thank you :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone! Well, my finals are all finished (thankfully!) so I can now stop stressing and just try to make this story the best I can :) Thank you **GeorgieForever, Aris1013, Spiralling-Down, gwin, EricaX, mebyrne,** and** MyOwnPurpleWorld **for being the wonderful reviewers you are! It's honestly such a motivational boost! So I hope you guys like this chapter; I made it a bit longer for you :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing!

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **T

* * *

_**By Your Side**_

**Chapter Seven**

Fred hadn't realised he'd dozed off until he heard a terribly familiar groan somewhere to his right. His eyes pinged open and he shot up in bed, looking across their bedroom to find George tangled up in his sheets, his body moving in restless motions. Heart pounding, Fred stayed deathly still for only a moment, hoping fruitlessly that whatever nightmare George was caught up in would vanish on its own.

"I don't know anything," George moaned, eyes fluttering and hands clenching around his sheets. "I swear…"

"Georgie?" Fred called hesitantly, holding his breath. Maybe that was all he was going to say…

"No!" George suddenly screamed, flailing madly. "I don't know anything! I don't know anything! PLEASE!"

"_George!"_ Fred launched himself across the room, shaking George's shoulders fiercely. "George, wake up, it's just a dream!"

George woke up in a gasp, jolting upright and breathing heavily. Cold sweat was covering every inch of him and his body trembled like there was a personal earthquake going on inside of him. His eyes darted everywhere, a look of plain terror still etched on his face as he repeatedly scanned every centimetre of their room. He barely registered that Fred was beside him until he spoke again.

"George?"

The younger twin jumped and whipped his head to his left, seeing Fred's anxious face staring at him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before forcing a wan smile on his face. "Sorry."

Fred looked tormented. "Don't be sorry," he said quietly, sitting on the edge of George's bed. "What happened?"

George pressed his lips into a thin line and seemed to contemplate whether or not to tell him. Sighing, he eventually muttered, "They were using the _Cruciatus _curse again."

Fred's jaw clenched at the same time as a lump formed in his throat. Swallowing painfully, he said hoarsely, "I thought they were getting better."

George gave a humourless smirk. "So did I."

Fred grimaced and hugged him despite the sweat. "This damn bloody trial," he growled under his breath, resting his chin on George's damp hair. "I wish they'd just chuck them in Azkaban and be done with it."

"You and me both," George sighed dejectedly.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked softly after a few moments.

That was a loaded question. No, George was not okay. He didn't know if he'd ever be okay, but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Fred that. "Yeah," he murmured.

"Well go on, then, budge up," Fred said after another pause, releasing his hold on him.

George went a little pink. "You don't have to –" he began.

"I know," Fred interrupted, motioning for him to scoot over anyway.

A genuine smile crept on to George's face as he shuffled to the other side of the bed and laid down. Fred answered with a grin of his own and crawled under the covers, tucking George tightly into his side.

There was a certain understanding between them that had existed ever since they were younger. They always knew when the other needed a bit of coddling without being asked, but they also had a certain level of masculinity to uphold so as to not tarnish their reputation. So whenever they did show affection to this extent, it was normally when they were positive that no one was around. Had they been at Hogwarts, they would have waited until everyone was asleep before climbing in to the other's bed and setting their alarm to go off a little before their roommates' so the other could scramble back to his own bed before they woke up. But since they were at home and graduated (to a certain extent), no such precautions needed to take place.

Utterly exhausted, George fell asleep within minutes, using the crook of Fred's neck as a pillow. Fred, however, was wide awake but dared not to move a muscle so as to not disturb his slumbering brother. The image of George's terrified expression danced behind Fred's eyelids, taunting him with both the recognition that he wanted nothing more than to make sure George never looked like that again, and the knowledge that he never truly could.

Fred tightened his hold on his twin ever so slightly, feeling overly protective of him. If he could stop time, he'd stop it at this moment. He'd give George a little longer with peace; with security in knowing that Fred would sooner bite off both his feet than let something hurt him again.

And Fred couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible. Time and time again it had been proven that the twins only got hurt when apart from each other. When George broke his leg, he had been fooling around on his broom, waiting for Fred to finish breakfast. When Fred got his first concussion, it had been because George was sick and he had been forced outside after being scolded for half an hour. If Fred had just flat out refused to be separated, explained why they _had_ to be together…that was why it freaked him out so much that George took off. For all Fred knew, George could have somehow killed himself by accident just because Fred wasn't there with him.

The older twin dipped down and kissed George on the forehead, a lump forming in his throat yet again. "It's okay, Georgie," he found himself murmuring. "You're safe now."

Something inside of him seemed to have broken loose at those words, though. Without warning a sudden stream of memories hit with such force he jumped a little. Those words…he had said the same thing to his unconscious brother the night he found him, and it took until he had said them aloud and had George, asleep, in his arms to trigger the repressed images.

Fred closed his eyes to try and prevent them from tearing up. He remembered now; he remembered _everything._

* * *

"Fred and George, get _up,"_ their mother ordered exasperatedly, pounding on their bedroom for what felt like the billionth time. "We're going to be late and you two haven't eaten yet!"

George groaned and, instead of doing what he had been told to, he merely shifted a little and snuggled into the warmth of his pillow.

"_Boys!"_

But suddenly his pillow spoke. "Alright, for Merlin's sake! Keep your hair on!"

George jumped, opening his eyes to find that instead of the white cushion he had expected, he saw the curve of Fred's neck before him. On any other day he might have been embarrassed to be in such a position. But not today. So he simply closed his eyes again and muttered groggily, "Tell Mum that unless she wants the house to be set on fire, she has to keep it down."

Fred grinned down at the ginger hair beneath his chin. "I don't know about that; she'd probably lock us in the house while it burned."

George chuckled a little and yawned as he rolled off Fred's shoulder to lay face down on the bed. "Why do we have to wake up so bloody early?" he moaned into the mattress.

"Because the Ministry likes to give us hell?" Fred offered as he slinked out of the covers to stretch. "C'mon, we better hurry up or Mum will do her nut."

"S'fine with me," George replied. "I like nuts."

Fred rolled his eyes and chucked a shoe at him. "Up."

George lifted his head to mock glare at him. "You know, there are nicer ways of getting my attention."

"Yes, and there are also crueler ways," Fred countered with a smirk. "Don't worry; I'll dump a bucket of water on you tomorrow."

"As long as we've got that settled," George said sarcastically. Sighing, he gave in and slumped to the floor, pulling the blankets with him. His hair was sticking up at odd angles.

Fred couldn't help but laugh at him. "Get dressed, you prat, and hurry up!" George stuck his tongue at him as Fred left the room.

By the time the twins managed to scarf down their breakfast, they were in severe danger of being late, and they didn't think the jury would look on them too kindly for being late a second time. So they ended up chancing Apparation to make it in time, and ended up sprinting in to the courtroom just in time.

The jury was starting to file in when they burst through the doors, causing many people to look at them in amusement. "Here…we're here…" Bill gasped.

"So we gathered," the judge remarked dryly.

Panting and flushed, the family went to their seats. George even forgot his attackers were in the room until he took his seat and noticed Sebastien looking at him with a strange expression. He couldn't quite place it, but it sent a shiver down his spine. It looked contemplating, but in such a way that George got the impression that he was imagining something rather unpleasant happening to him.

Noticing the glance as well, a look of revulsion appeared on Charlie's face. Fighting back a growl, he shot Sebastien a look of loathing before poking George's shoulder. When George looked at him, Charlie said under his breath, "Whatever you do, don't look at them. I think they want to get a rise out of you."

George nodded slowly in understanding and Charlie clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

Fred, meanwhile, was a nervous wreck. He was not looking forward to giving his testimony; even though remembering was the least of his worries now, he didn't want to have to say it. Saying it made it feel all the more real.

"I expect everyone here is all tired of hearing from witnesses," Malkuivich began with a small, amused smile. "But I ask for you all to hear one more. If Mr. Fred Weasley could come to the stand?"

Everyone in the room suddenly perked up at the mention of his name, and all eyes turned to attach themselves to the pale ginger. George looked near desperation, his eyes flickering between Malkuivich and his brother as if silently begging them to not do it.

Bill looked anxiously at Fred, wondering if he was going to be able to do this; he wondered if he _himself_ was going to be able to hear it. It had only been a few seconds' pause between the time that Malkuivich called his name to when Fred rose out of his seat. But before he was fully upright, George grabbed his arm and quickly whispered in his ear, "You look at me, alright? No one else; it's just the two of us, like you said."

Fred swallowed thickly and nodded, feeling George let go of his arm and feeling a strange loneliness as a result. But he somehow managed to walk smoothly to the stand and sit down. He was quickly sworn in and his heart was beating wildly as he waited for Malkuivich to start questioning him.

"Mr. Weasley, could you describe the moment when you came upon Sebastien's house?" Malkuivich asked kindly. It seemed that he would only ask about events that he believed were crucial to proving the men completely coherent, so as to spare Fred telling the full story. "For example, how did it look? Who did you see?"

Fred sought out George's crystal blue eyes, so like his own, and began, "Well…after I bothered Kingsley and Mr. Chamberland into letting me come with them, we Apparated just outside the perimetre of the house. There was a lot of time spent disabling the protective charms –"

"So the place was well guarded?" Malkuivich interrupted, wanting to make sure that the jury caught that bit of information.

"Yes."

"More than, say, the average household protective charms?"

Fred nodded. "Yes. There were some I didn't even know existed, and by the amount of time that was spent getting rid of them, I didn't think they were particularly normal charms."

"Very good," Malkuivich nodded. "Please continue."

Fred began fiddling with the hem of his shirt nervously as he took a deep breath. "There were a lot of Ministry officials there, most I didn't recognise. Mr. Chamberland wanted me to stay outside but I outright refused. I mean, I wasn't going to just _wait_ to see what happened," Fred snorted. "I would have just stayed home."

"Anyways, we approached the house very slowly - too slowly if you ask me - just in case there happened to be any other tricks we hadn't caught. But when we got to the house –" Fred paused. "I'm not quite sure what happened," he admitted. "There were shouts and everything was just a blur. But the next thing I knew, _they –"_ Fred pointed irritably to the two accused men, "were being overpowered by the Aurors. And even though they were caught, they _smiled."_ The indignation and disgust was apparent in Fred's voice. "They knew me somehow, and kept saying that I was too late, that they…" his voice tapered out suddenly, the quick change of emotion startling. "That they had killed him."

George gaped at him in horror. He realised with a shudder how exactly they knew who he was. George had murmured Fred's name unconsciously in a pain-induced sleep. They had woken him up shortly after, apparently, and interrogated him about who Fred was. George didn't know why they cared, but he got the feeling that there was a 'Fred' somewhere that they were afraid of. The slightly panicked and furious way they demanded information didn't exactly prove otherwise. But George now wished he hadn't said anything.

He looked at Sebastien and Horace despite Charlie's advice and found them leering at him. Ginny growled.

"I remember screaming at them to tell me where he was, but they simply laughed," Fred choked, his eyes suspiciously bright. He focused only on his twin's eyes and nothing else, reassuring himself time and time again that George was alive and in front of him. "I tried to get at them, but Kingsley held me back. Mr. Chamberland then said that George would probably be in a dungeon located somewhere in the house, and I kind of…lost it. The next thing I knew, I was sprinting down the stairs and burst through a door that…that…" Here Fred stopped, shaking his head as he tried to get control over his emotions.

"This was the dungeon?" Fred nodded.

"And you ended up going down into the dungeon yourself," Malkuivich said quietly. It was more a statement than a question. Fred nodded curtly once more but didn't respond. "Could you tell us what happened after that?"

Fred felt like he had swallowed a Ton-Tongue Toffee; his tongue felt thick in his mouth and he wasn't even sure if he could form the words simply because his mouth didn't seem able to. But after a few moments of squirming, he nodded once more. "I…the dungeon…I went in to the dungeon…" he stumbled over his words, not quite sure how to phrase it. "And I…I saw…"

"What did you see?" Malkuivich asked softly. The entire room was enrapt in the testimony being given; they all seemed to forget everyone else in the room and simply focused on the poor man telling the story. Fred, however, merely stared at his identical counterpart.

"I saw my brother," he said in a barely audible voice. George's eyes closed briefly in sadness, but opened once more to give Fred his full attention. "He was chained to the wall…like some animal," Fred spat.

Bill snarled dangerously under his breath, his hands in tight fists. Charlie and Bill had always been very close; they were best friends and had a similar relationship with each other as Fred and George had. But Charlie had never seen Bill so out of control with his emotions. Bill had always been the calm one, even when enraged. Charlie had asked him time and time again how on earth he did so, but Bill would merely give an ambiguous answer that, simply put, meant that Bill didn't quite know _how_ he did it. He just did. But whatever part of him that had such self-control seemed to have disappeared.

"Mate, are you alright?" Charlie asked in a hushed tone, feeling mildly alarmed at seeing Bill like this.

"No," Bill answered shortly, his eyes blazing with hatred. "No, I'm not."

"George just looked so broken," Fred said in a wavering voice, hiding his face in his hands for the first time. It was just so overwhelming, and the images that were appearing before his eyes made him feel nearly as horrible as he had that night. His eyes burned fiercely and he choked, "There was just so much blood…so much…his body was so beaten, so tortured…how could someone still be alive after that?"

George felt a wave of panic take a hold of him. His throat tightened as he watched with wide, terrified eyes as his brother fell apart right in front of him. He couldn't listen through this…he'd do anything, _anything_ other than watch Fred retell the emotional turmoil he went through. His fists clutched the armrests so hard his hands were white.

"I thought, for a moment, that he…I thought I was too late, that I _had _lost him…" Fred croaked, feeling the shielded tears spill over his lower eyelids and trek shamelessly down his hidden face. "I was by his side within seconds, and I just remember saying…saying his name, praying to God that I was wrong, that George was still alive. And after a few moments, his eyes flickered open. There was so much pain in his eyes, but…but the only words he said to me…he said, 'I knew you'd find me.'"

The younger twin clamped his eyes shut as he felt like they were in danger of forming tears. That moment when he heard Fred's voice, nebulous from the pain that clouded George's senses, was the best moment of his life. Knowing that his twin was there was the most relieving feeling; it can't even be imagined. George had never loved his brother more than when Fred saved him that night. He knew he was going to be alright, because Fred would make sure he was. Fred wouldn't leave him, wouldn't let either of them be in danger anymore. George just knew that if he were to be found, it had to be by Fred, because Fred was the crutch he needed when he couldn't support himself.

All the Weasley family could do was gawk at Fred in horror. Ginny couldn't remember feeling so absolutely lost, so helpless in her entire life. She couldn't think of a worse scenario for Fred; finding his twin on the verge of death must have felt like his worst fear had come to life. It was no secret that that was what Fred and George's Bogarts were; what else could it be? Hers, for obvious reasons, was Riddle's diary. She couldn't imagine going through that again, and she could only feel a terrible, deep pain for her brother, knowing how awful that night must have been.

"I didn't understand how someone could do this to him," Fred continued sorrowfully, his shaky voice muffled by his hands. "He passed out right after speaking, and I just…I just remember…breaking the chains off of him and…and…" But Fred shook his head then, a sign he couldn't continue.

Malkuivich looked upon the young, hunched over man and feel nothing but sympathy for him. It was terrible that families such as this had to suffer so much. "If you can," Malkuivich said gently, "would you be able to describe the dungeon?"

Fred took a couple of deep breaths, trying to steady himself. _Almost over,_ he thought miserably. He lifted his head and looked at the lawyer before glancing at his brother. George, with his eyes tightly shut, looked in great pain, and for one heart stopping moment, Fred thought he was in another flashback. But George opened his eyes then almost as if he sensed Fred's gaze on him and managed a tiny, reassuring smile, nodding for him to go on. His grip on his armrests, however, remained as rigid as before.

"It was dark," Fred said forlornly. "There were no windows, and the room was damp and cold. There was a bag full of Muggle torture instruments and a table where the ones that had already been used were placed. It was like they had planned out exactly which ones to hurt him with and when," Fred snarled, his voice so full of hate.

George's face was pale. He remembered that bag…he remembered the absolute terror he'd feel every time one of them would sneer and reach into it, unleashing another torture weapon. He had to get out of there…but he couldn't just up and go in the middle of the trial; it would reflect badly on him. But _dammit,_ he couldn't take this! But to his relief, Fred didn't seem to have much else to say.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Malkuivich said sincerely. Fred nodded curtly.

"Would the defence like to cross-examine the witness?" the judge asked.

Rutsklich nodded with a slight smile. "Yes, your Honour." Both George's and Fred's hearts sank.

"Bloody hell," Charlie swore, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't take much more of this. And if that _damn_ man pushed Fred too far, he'd just have to fling himself over there and strangle the lawyer. After, of course, he bludgeoned those two Death Eaters to death.

"Fred, is it?" Rutsklich began pleasantly.

Fred glared at him. "To my friends and family, yes, but since you're neither, it's Mr. Weasley."

George couldn't help but burst into a fit of silent and nerve-shattering snickers; he tried to hide it, but it didn't help that Ginny was giggling hysterically beside him and Fred was giving him an amused wink. Even their father was looking like he was fighting a smile.

Rutsklich didn't seem fazed, however. "Mr. Weasley, is it correct in assuming that you were very emotional as you entered the house with Mr. Woodriff and Mr. Brawning inside?"

Fred stared at him like he was an idiot. He looked at George. "Did he really just ask me that?" he asked his twin, baffled.

George grinned and made shrugged in an exaggerated way of expressing his mutual confusion. Inside, however, he was both struggling to control his laughter and his impending heart attack. He was terrified of what Rutsklich would say, and he knew that what Fred had confessed earlier would come back to hit him once again.

"I'd be concerned even if it was _you_ in there," Fred snorted. There was a round of chuckles that had failed to be turned into coughs from the jury. George heard his parents groan and knew they were just barely suppressing their need to tell Fred to shut up.

Rutsklich's mouth twitched a bit, but other than that, he showed no reaction. Carrying on like Fred had answered his question, he said, "Is it possible that your emotions could have twisted the truth into something more sinister? Like, say, made you _think_ you saw them smile or heard them laugh while being escorted out?"

"No," Fred replied harshly, glowering intensely at the lawyer.

"Really?" Rutsklich smiled. "Because you seemed pretty emotional just a few minutes before, and this was about something that happened four months ago. I have to wonder if maybe your imagination had, perhaps, ran away with you."

Fred had never been more insulted. "Are you implying," Fred said in a quiet voice that was full of indignation and made that much more venomous by the low tone, "that I made up this whole thing?"

George dug his fingernails into his palm, shaking with rage. _Bastard!_ He roared in his head. He didn't pay attention to the rest of his family, though he knew they were beyond furious as well.

"No," Rutsklich replied with that maddening little smirk on his face. "Just how you portrayed the defendants to have acted."

"Objection, your Honour," Malkuivich said in a steely voice, standing up. "Mr. Rutsklich is making assumptions on the reliability of the witness. Mr. Weasley has sworn under oath to tell the truth, and it is unjust to assume that he is driven solely by emotions."

"If I may?" Rutsklich interrupted. "I don't doubt Fred believes the defendants to have laughed and smiled at his brother's expense, but –"

"And why should you believe differently?" Malkuivich retorted, fire erupting in his eyes. "Why not disregard every witness's accounts, then!"

"Order!" the judge called loudly, banging on his gavel. "Strip Mr. Rutsklich's cross-examination statements from the record." He turned to give Rutsklich a hard look. "Keep your questions appropriate, Mr. Rutsklich, or you will be asked to sit down."

"Yes, your Honour," Rutsklich answered. "Mr. Weasley –"

"What, are you going to ask whether or not we're related now?" Fred snapped, his face red with anger.

Bill's teeth were clenched so tight he wondered idly if they would be crushed under the pressure. That bloody, good-for-nothing, poor-excuse-for-a-lawyer was in serious danger of being socked by Bill's fist if he didn't shut his mouth. And by the way the rest of his family was looking, he didn't think it was only him Rutsklich should be wary of. Especially George, who looked absolutely murderous.

"Mr. Weasley," Rutsklich repeated, ignoring Fred's statement. "Are you certain that these men were acting alone? As in, not under any kind of control?"

"Yes," Fred said through clenched teeth.

"And how did you know?"

"Well, I'd say one reason is because they were laughing like the gits they are, but I suppose that was just me being 'emotional,'" Fred growled.

"Anything else?" Rutsklich prodded with that maddening superior look on his face.

"Other than the weapon bag and my brother's accounts, but I guess those aren't good enough reasons for you, are they?" Fred lashed out.

"Fred," Charlie muttered warningly under his breath. He knew his brother's temper was just barely being held back and Merlin help them if Fred lost it.

"I'm afraid, unless there's proof –"

"What counts as proof to you?" Fred barked, standing up. "Do you want to go into my memory or something? Go ahead! You're the one who'll look like the wan –"

"Order!" the judge called, casting Fred a disapproving look. "We'll have a thirty minute recess."

"But your Honour, I'm not finished," Rutsklich protested.

"You may resume when we've returned," the judge said firmly.

George was out of his chair before the judge banged on his gavel.

"_George!"_ Fred cried, shoving his chair out of the way. All of his previous anger had fled his mind as he watched the ginger streak that was his twin flee the room.

Said ginger streak had no idea where exactly he was running to, but he didn't really care at the moment. All he knew was that he had to get away; he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He wasn't stupid; he knew the whole 'you can't run from your problems' speech, but it seemed to be working for him as of late. And if someone asked him if he was alright _one more time…_

His shoe caught on something – whether it was a loose tile or his own feet – and he found himself suddenly airborne. George hit the ground hard, skidding a few feet before he came to a stop somewhere down a deserted corridor. With a groan he rolled on to his back and stared at the ceiling for a couple of moments. He pushed himself upwards and leaned himself against the wall, burying his face into his knees. His nerves were so shot, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or scream. _Deep breaths, Georgie boy,_ he thought to himself. _Deep breaths._

"George," came a croaked voice from in front of him. George didn't lift his head, though he knew that voice very well.

Fred knelt in front of his twin, his eyes bright. "George?" Fred tried again, his voice trembling. He laid a hesitant hand on George's shoulder. "Are you –?"

"Don't," George interrupted, face still hidden. "Don't ask me that."

Fred moved silently to sit beside him and put a comforting arm around George's shoulders. He pulled George gently towards him so his twin's head rested in the crook of his neck. They didn't say anything for a long time.

All Fred wanted was to see his best friend happy again. That wasn't too much to ask, was it? Every time George seemed in 'danger' of being in a good mood, something had to tear him down again. And in times such as these, it was Fred's job as his twin to become a buffer between George and the world, to protect him from whatever hell it tried to throw at him. But _dammit,_ something always had to slip through! Despite Fred's best efforts, he couldn't protect George from this. Between George and his traumatised mind, Fred couldn't buffer. And it killed him.

He didn't think he could ever fully explain it, maybe it was a twin complex, but Fred was always exceptionally protective of George. He and his twin were already protective by nature, but there was always something different about when George was hurt or sick. It was always scarier, always more threatening to Fred than anything else. Who had ever heard of Fred without George, anyway? And no matter the injury, all Fred would think about was what would happen if it had been worse. Normally an optimist, those were the only times when Fred would grow solemn and pensive, wincing at the prospect of having to live without his twin beside him.

And that gnawing fear had almost become a reality. George was to never leave his sight now, but whenever he did, Fred would feel a kind of raw, desperate, panic-induced need to find him, to be within earshot of him. Fred sure hoped George wasn't getting tired of him, because Fred was not about to relinquish his iron grip. He'd clutch on to him for the rest of his life, and they'd either live in the same house or live right next to each other because Fred would not be without him.

George, meanwhile, felt like a bit of a prat. He knew he had no right to seek comfort from Fred at the moment, nor was he allowed to run away when Fred needed him. But here he was, and here _Fred_ was consoling him when it should be the other way around. It should be George telling Fred that it was going to be alright, that George wouldn't land himself in this kind of situation again.

Ah. And there _that_ was.

The one thought that never failed to be followed by guilt. There was so many 'what-ifs' that ran through his mind that he lost count. If only he had been a bit quicker, if only he had been more careful as he ventured to the fireplace, if only they hadn't separated…

And how _dare_ that damn lawyer accuse Fred of making it up! As if Fred would twist the story into making it seem much worse than it actually was. George felt a deep dislike for the man churn in his stomach. If there was one thing he would not stand for, it was ill-treatment of his twin.

But what could he do? A wave of helplessness hit him, and George idly wondered how many emotions one person could have at a given time before they exploded. George couldn't very well go and hex him like he would have had they been at school. There was nothing he could personally do to let Rutsklich know that no one messed with George's twin.

George sighed, a sound that didn't go unnoticed by Fred. "Punch me all you like," Fred began quietly, "but are you okay?"

His doppelganger shrugged half-heartedly. Fred was trying to think of something to say when he heard, "I'm sorry."

Stunned for a few moments, Fred eventually shook himself and demanded, "What in Merlin's beard are you going on about?"

"I shouldn't have run," George replied, "I shouldn't be sitting here moping like an idiot – Ow!" George rubbed his shoulder and glared accusingly at Fred. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"For apologising!"

George raised an eyebrow. "That's not usually how this works. See I apologise, and you say 'that's okay Forge' and then we laugh and go about our merry way. If you're trying a new kind of psychological mind trick on me that you found in one of Dad's weird Muggle books, I'm going to have to say no thank you to that."

Fred grinned a little; that was such a George response. "No, you tosser. I mean you shouldn't apologise in the first place."

George looked confused. "Er…come again?"

Fred rolled his eyes, but became serious. "You're too hard on yourself, Georgie. You have _nothing_ to apologise for."

"But…_you_ were the one interrogated back there!" George protested vehemently, pulling back so they were sitting side by side. "If anything, we should be hunting the git down and shoving his face into a vanishing cabinet."

Fred laughed, and it made a small smile of triumph appear on George's face. "True," Fred admitted with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "But that's a mission better done at night. Too many witnesses, you know."

They remained silent once again, each lost in their own thoughts before George finally said, "We should probably go find everyone else; they must be going mental right now."

Fred didn't answer. George looked at him with his head cocked to the side in confusion before he registered the expression on his brother's face; he looked downright impetuous. "Fred…?" George said carefully, unsure as to what caused this drastic change.

Fred stood abruptly, his face red with fury. His mind had flooded with images of the sick, sadistic men who had tortured his beloved twin sneering during the trial, laughing as Fred demanded to know where George was at the house, of George himself battered and bloody, struggling to live…

Even George wasn't going to calm him down this time. Fred began to storm down the corridor, the lights flickering and bursting around him as his magic seemed beyond his control.

"Fred!" George called after him, stunned at seeing Fred so wild with hatred. He was nervous; Fred might be hot-headed and impulsive, but never had George seen him like this.

The older twin heard George call after him, but he didn't answer; all he could think of was the two Death Eaters who were probably enjoying every second of this trial.

Fred was going to rip them to pieces whether he went to jail for it or not.

* * *

Review please and thank you :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** *peeks head in* Hi... :/ I'm sorry for the break...my family and I are moving in a two to three weeks to Nova Scotia and it's been extremely hectic trying to prepare for that...what with the packing and showings and everything :/ Maddening stuff, I tell you. But to make up for the absence, I'm posting two chapters and I made them as long as I possibly could! I figured that if I'm posting this late I might as well do a second chapter :P So I hope you all like it :)

And huge thank yous to **esoul, Submarine19, Spiralling-Down, MyOwnPurpleWorld, GeorgieForever, Aris1013, EricaX, The Hiccup pup, Guest,** and **mebyrne** for reviewing the last chapter! You guys are my favourite people ever :D You're all so nice! It makes me feel awesome hahaha :D

**Disclaimer:** I don't suppose I own much more than

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **T

* * *

_**By Your Side**_

**Chapter Eight  
**

"Where the devil did they go off to?" Bill demanded as he and the rest of his family, save for two missing twins, burst from the courtroom.

"Knowing those two, probably somewhere we'd never find them," Mr. Weasley replied wearily. "They've always had a knack for disappearing." _Especially when in trouble,_ he finished a little amusedly in his head. But then he sighed. "They'll turn up when they want to be found."

"Arthur, really, we can't just wait here," Mrs. Weasley fretted. "What if one of them gets hurt?"

"Then they'll want to be found," Mr. Weasley responded patiently to his wife. "You know as well as I do that it will be useless to search for them."

"Damn them," Charlie muttered in half annoyance, half grudging admiration.

"Well, can you blame them?" Ginny challenged in defence of her brothers. "This isn't exactly a field day for those two."

"Well it isn't for us either!" Charlie shot back.

A flame developed in Ginny's eyes at the tone. "I never said it was!" she snapped, her nostrils flaring. "But Fred and George are the closest people we know, and George had to actually _suffer_ through it while Fred went and found him all bloodied up! _You_ tell me who's worse off here, Charlie!" Charlie's face paled and he averted his gaze to the floor, the sudden flash of irritation vanishing.

"Let's just calm down," Bill said in a forcibly calm voice. "They have to appear at some point, so let's just all take a breather and relax."

Everyone nodded, despite wanting to voice the mutual feelings of anything but. It was a moot point, really; who could be all calm and collected after a session like _that?_ After seeing Fred fall to pieces? Fred was hardly ever emotional in front of his family unless it was feelings of either anger or pleasure; they all thought, though, that he must have gotten upset at some point, and that George was probably the only one to ever bear witness to such frivolous things as tears. That mystery, however, had revealed itself in a short span of time.

The first time was when Fred had found George, and it wasn't a night they were going to forget in a hurry. The sight of one twin on the brink of death was horrific and scarring enough, but when they all saw Fred sobbing in front of them, they knew it was bad. If Fred knew George would be okay, he most likely would have just waited until it was the two of them alone before he opened up. But the knowledge that Fred _didn't_ know scared him so badly that he sought comfort from other sources. And seeing Fred like that, knowing what it meant, was the most terrifying part.

Of course, Bill and Charlie had been spared from such a scene, but for everyone else it was one of their most shocking memories. A few stressful days followed George's discovery in which the Healers worked on him constantly, trying to save his life, while reporting periodically back to the family on his condition. Fred hadn't held back his tears then either, and would nearly run the Healer over whenever one of them came to tell them how George was. But once they announced that George would live with no physical defects except for a couple of nasty scars, Fred had glued himself almost literally to his twin's side. Most days George would be asleep and Fred would watch him rest for hours on end as if terrified that if he so much as blinked George would disappear. Slowly both twins recovered – not completely, but just enough to act a bit more like themselves – but Ginny was right; they had the hardest part.

"Is that Fred?" Ginny's voice cut through everyone's thoughts and the family jumped to their feet, casting their eyes anxiously for the ginger.

There was a moment of relief as they saw both him and George (George more specifically running behind Fred) coming their way, but it quickly translated to concern and confusion as they saw Fred's visage.

"Move," Fred ordered harshly as he came closer, absolute animosity written on his face. Immediately everyone sprang to action.

"Fred, just wait a second –!" Charlie said, alarmed as he tried to block Fred's rampage.

"_Get. Out. Of. My. Way!"_ Fred roared, shoving his older brother away with surprising strength.

Bill and Mr. Weasley leaped forward to aid Charlie, but even that didn't seem like it would hold the angry ginger for long. "Fred, just take a deep breath," Bill said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He glanced at George in curiosity, but it appeared that George had no idea what caused him to be like this either.

"No! I'm sick and tired of those good-for-nothing bloody prats!" Fred growled, hitting and punching them all to get them to let him go.

It suddenly clicked; Fred had somehow or other reached his limit. "Fred, you're going to get yourself arrested!" Ginny cried. She was all for breaking rules and such, but not laws. Especially when it could get her older brother thrown in Azkaban.

"I don't care!" Fred snarled. _"I'm going to kill them!"_ But just as he seemed about to break free from the mob, he stopped dead.

George, in a moment of desperation, had jumped into the fray. He knew he had to stop Fred before he hurt himself or got himself thrown in jail, but he _so_ wanted the Death Eaters to suffer himself.

Everyone paused because Fred was frozen in place. Fred would never push George away like Bill and Charlie because he'd be too terrified that he'd hurt him somehow, and Fred would _never_ hurt George. Not to mention the fact that George was the only person Fred would ever listen to. His twin was the perfect stop sign.

The seconds wore on as the two stared at each other, and Fred felt the anger vanish as he looked at his counterpart. Fred had been wrong before; George _could_ calm him no matter what.

George looked like he was battling with himself, before he finally sighed, seeming to dislike what he was about to say. "Fred, it's not worth it."

A flash of pain crossed Fred's face and the sudden burst of inhuman strength faded as quickly as it had come. "I can't just do _nothing,"_ Fred whispered in an agonised voice. None of their family members dared to move.

George's eyes drifted downwards; he understood. Fred wanted to help him, to protect him, and the only way he thought satisfactory was to make them suffer as much as they had made George suffer. It was nothing less than what George would have done, but George couldn't let him do it as much as his heart was screaming otherwise. Fred was not going to jail on his behalf.

"You're going to have to," George ended up replying in a grudging tone. "I want to give them a taste of their own medicine as much as anyone, but it's not worth it if you end up getting chucked into Azkaban."

"I wouldn't," Fred said stubbornly.

George raised an eyebrow. "Well by all means, if you've become best mates with a Dementor, have a go."

"Fine then," Fred continued adamantly. He was going to get revenge one way or another. "If I get sent to Azkaban, at least I can continue to bloody them up in there."

"Well, then you would leave me no choice but to switch us somehow," George responded firmly, squaring his shoulders.

Fred looked aghast. "You would do no such thing," he spluttered.

"Try me."

They stared at each other a moment longer, daring the other to give in, before Fred slumped as he stood, seeming defeated. George smiled tiredly, patting him on the back. "There we go, mate; I knew you had some sense left in you."

"I don't like it," Fred grumbled disdainfully.

"Yeah, well," George said with a ghost of a smile. "You'll get used to that feeling."

If Bill hadn't admired George before, he definitely would have now. How his little brother could be this strong amazed him, and made him that much more determined to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. Even if he had to quit his job and move himself and Fleur closer to the area to keep watch over his family, so be it. Nothing was more important than this.

They all relinquished their hold on Fred, knowing he wouldn't do anything, and gradually moved apart. Fred merely stared at George with helplessness all over his face.

"C'mon," Mr. Weasley said softly, breaking the silence. "The trial should be restarting soon." Everyone awkwardly bustled to the courtroom except for the twins. "Boys?"

George gave Fred's hand a reassuring squeeze and a timid smile before he too disappeared into the room.

"Fred?" Mr. Weasley called again, continuing to hold the door open.

Fred nodded numbly and walked forward, wondering if he'd ever be able to shake the powerless feeling of knowing that there was nothing he could do to avenge George's suffering other than wait patiently for the results of the trial.

* * *

"Mr. Weasley," Rutsklich said in an upbeat tone as he walked in front of the man and smiled. Fred had to resist the urge to slam a fist into the lawyer for simply breathing in his airspace. He instead trained his blue eyes on the identical eyes of his twin staring back at him, feeling a familiar sense of security course through him from knowing George was there. "Would it be correct in assuming that you and George are very close?"

Fred gave him a scathing look, biting back a retort; he wanted this to be over as quickly as possible. "Yes," Fred answered stiffly, not quite able to keep all hostility from his voice.

"Of course," Mr. Rutsklich mused in a voice that implied that he had something rather devious up his sleeve. "And Mr. Woodriff was close with his cousin as well, as close as brothers were they not?" This he didn't direct towards Fred but to the jury as a rhetorical question.

He glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand and seemed to skim over a particular line. He smiled in what could only be described as unsettling and held the paper up. "I have a record that states that Mr. Woodriff's cousin was found under the Prime Minister's orders," he boomed loudly, looking eerily triumphant. "And also died days after imprisonment." He looked back at Fred and smirked. "Upsetting, wouldn't you think? Mr. Woodriff's cousin, as close to him as you are to your brother, was arrested and died days later. Taken away from him for life. Left alone."

Fred remained silent, his face impassive. He didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for Sebastien; he had nearly taken George away from him and that was, to him, unforgiveable. And he highly doubted they were as close as he and George were. They were twins for bloody sake. You couldn't top that.

"Mr. Weasley," Rutsklich continued, "you can understand the anger Mr. Woodriff felt towards the Prime Minister can't you? He –"

"If you expect me to feel sorry for the git who nearly murdered my brother, you must be out of your mind," Fred interjected icily, unable to hold back his anger. Rutsklich's tactic became all too clear to him; if he somehow got them to sympathise with them, make some kind of weird connection, either the charges would be dropped or the jury would vote in the defendants' favour if he saw them as victims themselves. It seemed farfetched and ridiculous, and maybe if Rutsklich was working with a stupid family it'd work. But not with the Weasleys, and certainly not with Fred. Not when it concerned George.

"Of course I don't," Rutsklich answered smoothly. "But think for a second. You of all people should be able to understand how Mr. Woodriff must have been feeling."

"I don't think the circumstances are quite the same," Fred snarled hotly. "My brother never went to jail, nor did he torture and murder innocent people, so I would appreciate it if you wouldn't compare him to scum like that."

Sebastien snarled and made to stand, infuriated by Fred's statement, but Aurors immediately pointed their wands at him and he reluctantly sat down. The man glowered at Fred, however, who was happy to sneer at him and give him a little wave.

George, meanwhile, was terrified. _Please, Fred, for the love of God, don't antagonise him!_ George pleaded in his head, shutting his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for Sebastien to have it out for his brother too.

Mr. Rutsklich carried on as if there had been no interruption. "Angry, and upset, Mr. Woodriff would have been to know that his cousin was put away in Azkaban –"

"Where he belonged," Fred commented, grinning maliciously as he saw the reaction he had caused in Sebastien.

George moaned to himself, grimacing painfully._ Shut up, Fred, SHUT UP!_ Charlie immediately asked anxiously, "George, are you alright? Do you need to leave?"

"Mr. Weasley, keep your commentary to yourself," the judge reprimanded sternly.

"George?" Charlie pressed, worried. George shook his head, though he didn't open his eyes. Fred didn't seem to have noticed yet.

"– only to die days later," Rutsklich trudged on. "In his state of sorrow and fury at having someone close to him taken away, he could have been easily overtaken by the _Imperious _Curse by someone else and made to believe that George had something to do with his cousin's imprisonment. Made him _want_ to torture George Weasley despite the contents of the envelope." He looked at Fred and a smile. "Very similar to what you two would have done, eh?"

Fred visibly paled, looking somewhat horrified at the implication. But he still spluttered, "Excuse me?"

Mr. Rutsklich's grin turned positively wicked. "Your anger towards these men was the same anger Mr. Woodriff carried for George when tricked into believing that he was responsible for taking his cousin away. In fact, assuming your brother is half-normal, George carries the same anger, the same hatred. And tell me, would either of you hesitate to inflict as much damage on these two men as they had done to George? Were you two not about to go assault these two men during the break? Or was all that screaming just for show?" Mr. Rutsklich smirked triumphantly. "You both act like the victims in this scenario, like the innocent brothers, when you both wanted them to suffer like they made George suffer. These men are no different from you in morals or ethics."

Fred's mouth hung open. He was so outraged, so insulted, he was literally left speechless. And this was a first for Fred Weasley. He looked at his twin, expecting the same anger; what he saw, however, made him gasp a little. George was exceptionally white in the face, his blue eyes standing out even more and reflecting nothing but pure shock. Fred's heart began to hammer in his chest; George couldn't possibly believe Rutsklich, could he?

Yeah, they had been angry and Fred snapped a little, but they hadn't _done_ anything! The whole thing was utter bullshit! Sebastien's cousin had _nothing_ to do with how they had acted! There was no proof that Sebastien was under the _Imperious_ Curse, and that didn't even explain Horace's involvement! It was completely mental. But if had obviously struck a nerve in George, and Fred suddenly wondered if that had been Rutsklich's goal all along.

"Objection!" Malkuivich said angrily, standing up. "There is absolutely _no_ proof that Mr. Woodriff had these intentions in mind, or that he had been influenced under the _Imperious_ Curse. His connections were irrelevant and inappropriate!"

"Sustained," the judge said in a steely voice, showing a strong dislike for Mr. Rutsklich.

_At least we have that,_ Fred thought.

"Strip that entire nonsense from the record," the judge ordered. "You may return to your seat, Mr. Rutsklich," he commanded none too kindly.

"Of course," Mr. Rutsklich smiled, doing as told.

But not before something clicked inside of Fred, who suddenly shouted angrily, "You think you were pretty smart there, didn't you? But you just said yourself that he had _wanted_ to hurt my brother, which means he had _meant_ to do it no matter how he got to mean it! And isn't that was this whole bloody case is about? Whether they _meant_ to do it?"

There was a buzz of excited murmurs that erupted in the jury. Malkuivich gave Fred an amused and impressed look, while Rutsklich's smile turned ugly, suddenly realising his poor choice of words. Fred smirked in satisfaction.

"Order!" the judge shouted, banging on his gavel until there was silence. "I think we've all had enough for today," he announced. "We will reconvene tomorrow."

The moment those words had left his mouth, though, the previous worry had Fred jumping upwards and racing towards his brother, shoving the rest of his family away with unintended force. "George?" Fred said hesitantly.

George's eyes were glazed over in horror, and Fred felt a little bit of panic begin to take a hold of him. He grabbed both of George's shoulders and shook him slightly. "George?" No response. He shook harder. "George!"

In the murky confines of George's shell-shocked mind, he thought he faintly heard Fred calling out to him, but he didn't really know, nor did he put much effort in to figuring it out. All George could think of was that Fred had wanted to hurt the Death Eaters because they had hurt George. _George_ wanted to hurt them. He had wanted them to suffer like he had…just like Sebastien had wanted him to suffer…

Were they really any different?

"George, you prat!" Fred growled in frustration. "Answer for Merlin's sake!"

George blinked. Fred's voice had suddenly cut through his thoughts like a javelin, startling him. He vaguely noticed two hands painfully gripping his shoulders and two blue eyes boring in to him, but as he came closer to awareness, he merely stared at the wall just above Fred's head.

"George?" Fred said once more in a clipped tone, seeing George's eyes blink in surprise before going frighteningly dull. They eluded his gaze. "C'mon, snap out of it." Fred needed to talk to him, and it couldn't wait until they got home. He glanced around and found to his grim delight that they were the only ones in the courtroom.

Bill, blessed with the ability to understand pointed looks, saw Fred's and knew immediately what he wanted. "We'll give you guys a minute," he said kindly and began to usher everyone else out of the room.

Once they were alone, Fred got rid of the harsh tone and knelt in front of George, saying surprisingly softly, "George, look at me."

George couldn't ignore that pleading voice for his life. He looked right into Fred's eyes and immediately felt even more ashamed of himself.

"Mate, c'mon, you have to know what Rutsklich said was utter –" Fred struggled for a word. "Balderdash!"

George stared at him for a second – did I just hear Fred…? – and instantly and burst out laughing. "Did you just say balderdash?" he grinned broadly, wiping his eyes.

"Well I thought 'bullshit's been a bit overused, at least in my train of thought," Fred smirked.

"That's brilliant," George beamed. "Can I use that?"

"Not in public places," Fred said with an amused wink. "We have a reputation to uphold." There was a moment of comfortable silence before Fred cleared his throat and said, "Er, well, before we go, George, you, er…you didn't _really_ believe Rutsklich, did you?"

George's grimaced and glanced at the floor, his mood changing swiftly. "I dunno," he muttered, shrugging slightly.

"George, we're nothing like those guys," Fred said forcibly, staring intently at his twins face. "We didn't do anything."

"But I wanted to," George said quietly. "I almost did."

Fred was growing angrier and angrier at Rutsklich for making George use such a self-deprecating tone. "For Merlin's sake, if you _didn't_ want to tear them apart I'd think you got hit upside the head!" George didn't look up and Fred swore under his breath in frustration.

George winced, and Fred's anger was immediately replaced with guilt and worry. Fred scolded himself for yelling even though he hadn't meant it for George; it certainly wouldn't help anyone. He stared at George for a moment, trying to think of how to get this through to him, before saying gently, "George, you have every right to hate them; there isn't one person in this world that would blame you if you hexed them into oblivion. You didn't start it, George. They did. And despite everything, you never did anything to them. You even stopped _me_ from doing anything."

"But I still wanted –"

"So?" Fred interrupted. "Sometimes I wanted to throw Percy out a window, but I never did."

A small smirk cracked George's face. "Fred, we _did_ throw him out a window."

"Oh yeah!" Fred grinned, eyes twinkling. "But it was only the kitchen window. And he wouldn't stop talking about the bottoms of those bloody cauldrons! What were we supposed to do?"

"Knock some family values into him," George scowled.

Fred's features darkened momentarily before he forced himself to focus. "The point is," he said, "you did nothing wrong. Wanting to hex someone is different from actually doing it. And what Rutsklich said was utter, for lack of a better word, bullshit. You know better than anyone that they weren't under the _Imperious_ Curse. His cousin has _nothing_ to do with kidnapping you, and I don't care what kind of relationship they had, they're both just a couple of sadistic gits."

As Fred's words sunk in, realisation dawned on George. He groaned; he felt like kicking himself. He should have realised right off the bat that what Rutsklich was saying wasn't true because he was talking under the pretenses that they had been under the _Imperious_ Curse! And they _definitely_ hadn't been. And what was Rutsklich's point, anyways? He was going out on a limb saying that they had been cursed, and then even going beyond that by implying that it had somehow something to do with his cousin. If he's any kind of lawyer, he must have known that no one would be happy hearing it, and that no one would believe it. Even the judge doesn't like him now. So why say it?

_To get at you,_ a voice in his head spoke up. George blinked. That was Rutsklich's plan all along. He wanted George upset. But _why?_

"Well, I feel like an idiot," George couldn't help but say with a grimace, though his eyes were appreciative.

"Don't worry," Fred smirked. "You look like one too."

George punched him on the shoulder, grinning. "We're identical, you tosser. You technically just insulted yourself."

Fred waved his hand dismissively with a grin of his own. _"Technically."_ But then he smiled and gave George's hand an affectionate squeeze. "Whatever happens, we're in this together, Forge. You jump, I jump, remember?"

George blinked again, suddenly realising what that meant. Never in his life could he remember a moment when he did something different from Fred. It was just as natural as breathing to assume that what one twin did the other followed suit because that was just their way. Asking why Fred and George were always together was like asking why the moon came out at night or why summers were hot – they just _were._

No matter who they came across, it had always been the general assumption that no matter what they did, they did it together because they were just 'twins being twinny.' The longest time they'd ever been apart was when George had been kidnapped just a few months ago, for Merlin's sake. So why should going through this trial be any different?

George smiled a genuine smile and squeezed Fred's hand in turn. "I remember."

* * *

On to the nineth chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

"What's Rutsklich playing at?" George murmured more to himself than anything as he paced his bedroom floor. They had gotten home nearly an hour before, but the question had been eating at him ever since. The remark, however, was heard by his brother who lay horizontal and upside down on his bed. His ginger hair was just barely grazing the floor as he watched his twin pace absent-mindly.

"What do you mean?" Fred asked, feeling the blood rush to his head. It was uncomfortable, but he wanted to see how long he could last before he turned right-side up.

George glanced up at Fred's lolling body and rolled his eyes. "Fred, you're going to damage whatever few brain cells you have left."

Fred grinned. "You were always the smart one; I'm just here for my creativity and rugged good looks."

George shook his head at him but continued walking back and forth. More than once his eyes had strayed to the window, wishing he could go out it and take a walk to clear his head, but he promised himself he wouldn't run off again; Fred had dealt with enough stress for the day.

Fred became worried about his brother's peculiar behaviour and turned over. "Whoa," he said as he became dizzy as gravity restored the natural flow of blood throughout his body.

George didn't notice. He bit his lip and stopped, staring at the wall, before seeming to disagree with himself and resume his pacing.

"George?" Fred asked concernedly as soon as the dizziness stopped. "What's wrong?"

"It doesn't make sense," George muttered, looking frustrated.

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Why would Rutsklich make a comment like that?" George said distractedly.

Fred was getting a bit frustrated himself. "Like _what?"_

"Oh for the love of…why would Rutsklich compare us to them?" George demanded, annoyed. Though more so at the problem than Fred.

Fred's heart sank. George didn't think they were alike still, did he? "George," he began, becoming more alarmed by the second. "I thought we covered that –"

"I'm not talking about whether it's true or not," George replied, stopping to look at him. He could tell that Fred was utterly baffled at what was going on in his head. "I mean, why would he _say_ it?"

"Because he's a git," Fred said darkly, his eyes flashing.

George waved away his comment impatiently. "No, no," he said in that same speculative voice. "That's not it. There has to have been a reason."

Fred looked at him and a wave of uneasiness crashed over him. "Why do you care?" he asked hesitantly.

"He's a lawyer," George answered. "He should have known that what he was saying would upset everyone in the room…it was a stupid thing to do if he was trying to get the jury to be on his side…come to think of it, he's been saying stuff like that all throughout the trial and it's put off many of the jury members…so _why_ would he do it?"

The older twin finally caught on. "I don't know," he said slowly, frowning once more. "He obviously wanted to get a reaction out of us."

George nodded in agreement. "That's what I thought. But from a lawyer's standpoint, it was careless. It just doesn't make sense. His job was to get the Death Eaters acquitted, why does he have such a focus on aggravating us?"

"Did you spit in his coffee?" Fred asked in slight amusement. He really had no answer, and now that he thought about it, it was starting to bother him too.

"There's some other connection," George mumbled, thinking out loud. But then he froze, a look of plain horror on his face.

"George?" Fred cried in a panicked voice. _Dear God, please, don't let it be a flashback,_ Fred begged. He quickly pushed George on to his bed and knelt in front of him anxiously. "George? What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm giving my testimony tomorrow, aren't I?" George whispered a little dazedly, his face pale.

Fred felt like someone punched him in the stomach. "No…" he muttered, shaking his head. He moved to sit beside George and instinctively hugged him tightly, like he could somehow exempt George from the horrible task by holding him. "No, it…it won't be for a few days, right?" he said a bit frantically. "I mean…it can't be…it…it _won't_ be…"

Fred felt a little sick at the thought. Never mind his own reluctance to hearing the testimony, how on Earth was George expected to explain the horrors he went through in what would be agonising detail? _Hasn't he been through enough?_ Fred thought with a mixture of both anger and desperation. There was nothing he could do about it, too, and it hurt. Fred would give George the world if he could, and knowing he couldn't protect him from it was eating at him from the inside out.

And Fred knew he wasn't strong enough for this, but dammit, he'd be there for George if it killed him. Dignity aside – because he long ago knew he'd become a blubbering mess when George's testimony came to pass – Fred was going to be there. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to keep his composure. His grip on his brother must be painful, but George didn't move out of it and Fred couldn't bring himself to loosen his hold.

The night Fred found George was the worst and best moment of his life. He had never been more relieved to have found him, or more horrified. Fred honestly didn't know what he expected to see when he sprinted down those stairs, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't what he found. The moment he saw George's body…it was indescribable. Fred faintly recalled wondering if this was just a boggart, because George _couldn't…_and even if George had been just an image, Fred wouldn't have been able to fight it. It was a secret between him and his brother, but neither of them had ever been able to successfully fend off a boggart on their own. Together, when reassured that the other was alive and unharmed, they could. But that uncertainty, that lingering terror of not knowing if he would be pranking with George a few minutes later or suffering from the results of a world he had once known being burned to the ground, was the worst part.

And for a moment, Fred thought it had. His heart had stopped and he had fallen against the dungeon's wall, paralysed with shock, grief, and pain. He remembered giving up completely, thinking that if this was his twin's final resting place than it might as well be his too, before a sharp voice had snapped in his head, _Get up, you idiot! You don't know for sure; he could still be alive!_

That one thought had him jumping back up and racing towards George's bloodied body. "Georgie?" he had whispered, tears streaming down his face.

This was too much for him to bear…but then a soft voice saved him from insanity. "I…knew you'd…find me," George had rasped so quietly it was barely audible. His eyes were open for only a moment, reassuring Fred that he hadn't just imagined it; his world hadn't been burned down yet. But then George passed out, and Fred knew he had to get to St. Mungo's as soon as possible.

He had glared murderously at the chains binding George, and with one quick spell, he had broken them off of him. Fred had gingerly gathered George into his arms, praying he didn't do any more damage, and carried him up the stairs. He wasn't aware for a little while of the tears still falling rapidly down his cheeks, but he remembered saying only one thing over and over: "It's okay, Georgie, you're safe now."

Fred, lost in his morbid thoughts, wasn't aware he was shaking until George looked up at him in concern. "Fred? Are you okay?"

Fred simply stared at him. His eyes were blank for all of a second, and the next thing he knew, he was launching himself at his twin and sobbing into his shoulder.

George caught him in shock and his ears were assaulted by the sound of his brother crying heavily. Stunned for only a moment, George hugged him back, rubbing soothing circles on his back and ignoring the distinct wetness beginning to soak into his shirt. George's heart broke at the ragged, soul-shattering sobs emanating from his brother's throat.

Fred held on to George like his life depended on it. It all just hit him, for some reason. The whole trial, unbeknownst to him, had been chipping away at whatever willpower he had at holding the emasculating tears back, and he had finally cracked. "I love you, George," Fred croaked in a strangled voice, despite being muffled by the cloth of George's shirt.

George's heart broke more. "I love you too, Fred," he said softly, resting his chin on the top of Fred's hair.

Fred was grateful for his brother's comfort. George always seemed to know just what to do; he simply sat quietly and held him, making soothing motions so as to try and quell Fred's distress. Fred knew George wouldn't ask him what had caused him to break down because mentioning it would strike a blow at Fred's pride.

It took a long while before Fred was able to compose himself, but when George was satisfied that Fred had calmed down enough, George had merely gotten up and rummaged around a bit before returning and wordlessly handing Fred a piece of candy, causing Fred to laugh and George to give a sly smile.

George knew that Fred would tell him when he was ready; it was just Fred's way. Unless it was George who was crying – he always was the exception to every rule Fred had for people – Fred considered tears to be juvenile and pointless. They didn't solve anything, he had once explained, and made everyone around you feel uncomfortable. But when Fred would succumb to his emotions, George would never say a word about it. He never teased him, and simply made sure Fred was okay and waited patiently until Fred, if need be, explained the reason behind it.

But as George looked at him, he realised that he didn't need Fred to tell him what was wrong – he knew. And a look of relief crossed Fred's face when he saw that George understood. George pulled him into a one-armed hug and said, "If I remember correctly, we're running a bit low on our Skiving Snackboxes."

Fred looked up at him, surprised. "Huh?"

"Our top seller? You know, the thing that we started in Hogwarts all those years ago –"

Fred rolled his eyes. "I know what they are, Forge. But we really don't have to –"

"We do if we want to keep the business up and running," George grinned.

Fred looked at him carefully as if trying to decipher whether or not George really wanted to, before he broke out into excitement. "Yes!" he beamed, jumping to his feet. "Okay, we're running mostly low on Nosebleed Nougats since some people don't fancy throwing up as much, but then others don't like blood so the Fainting Fancies are probably down too –"

George looked at him with detached amusement as he ranted off exact statistics of how well they were doing and what they needed more of. _Let it be known that Fred Weasley _can_ count past ten,_ George declared in his head, smirking. When it came to things he and Fred cared about, they were nearly as brilliant as Hermione. School just didn't happen to fall under that category.

Still, it was a bit strange for Fred to do any of the accounting work; he usually stuck George with that since he had a tad bit more patience with such things. George realised with a bit of guilt that Fred had had to shoulder that load the last couple of months due to George's absence. _Shut up¸_ he told himself firmly. _It's not your fault those Death Eaters were gits…right? No, wait, shut up, I'm right! _

_You could have still done something other than 'man the counter',_ another voice sneered in his head. For some reason, this inner voice sounded eerily similar to Snape.

_Yeah, well, I'd like to see you handle those animals out there. It's hard to keep people from nicking things when you're in a half-daze. And there was that little kid not too long ago! Bit my finger, he did! Dangerous stuff, I tell you…_

George shook his head suddenly. Merlin, he was arguing with himself. And he was _losing!_

"– rge? You feeling okay?" Fred's voice startled George out of his wonderment of whether or not he was going mental.

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry, zoned out for a bit," George grinned sheepishly, pushing everything else out of his mind.

Fred looked a bit worried. He had called George's name several times before he answered. Was George _really_ up for this? "George –"

"Skip the dramatics," George interrupted, waving his hand in a dismissive way. "I'm fine. So, what shall we brew first?"

* * *

George woke up early the next morning, and at first he didn't know why. He groaned and buried his face deep into his pillow, cursing whatever it was that woke him. He could still hear Fred's loud snores from the bed on the other side of the room. The faint, repulsive smell emanating from their cauldron in the corner nearly caused George to gag, and he sent it a few choice expletives and a heartfelt glower. _Next time, clean it out before going to bed,_ George thought wryly, wrinkling his nose at the fumes. They had been exhausted the night before and didn't bother cleaning up. That was a mistake. But George was far too lazy to do it _now._

Sighing, George tried his best to ignore the repugnant odor and stared at the ceiling. He didn't know what woke him up; it couldn't have been the smell because it wouldn't have let him fall asleep in the first place. George was incredibly difficult to wake up at the best of times. George frowned. He hadn't had a nightmare, Fred wasn't chucking something at him to rouse him, his Mum wasn't screaming at him to wake up…in short, George concluded that he should still be dead to the world.

Shrugging, deciding not to dwell on it, George rolled over on to his stomach and buried his face into the white cushion once more. And then it hit him.

George froze and his stomach dropped to the floor. _Damn,_ he swore. He was testifying later that day; testifying against the only two people who probably scared him more than his mother when she was furious with him and Fred. Times twelve.

_Merlin, help me,_ he groaned under his breath. His heart began to race and he tried unsuccessfully to squash his growing anxiety. _Stop thinking about it,_ he ordered himself, but that was like telling a kid not to push the big red button; one way or another, it was going to happen.

_Maybe if I practice it won't be as hard,_ he thought. George looked sheepishly at his slumbering brother and was thankful he was asleep; he didn't think being laughed at for talking to himself would help his nerves. "Erm, okay," he whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible to himself. Yet he still glanced at Fred nervously, like he had sonar hearing and could possibly wake at the faintest of sounds.

'_George Weasley is going to testify, blah, blah, blah,' _George thought in his head, trying to give himself some sense of what it would be like. _'Mr. Weasley,'_ he imagined Malkuivich saying, _'please tell us everything you can about the night you were kidnapped.'_

Here George paused. "Well," he said silently. He was more mouthing the words than actually uttering them. "I, er, went to the Ministry to get the letter about the assassination…" but his mind was blank. That one, brief sentence just kept repeating in his mind until he wasn't even sure he was making sense anymore. "Well, apparently nothing happened," he snorted quietly. He didn't understand why he didn't know how to start, but he blamed it on the cauldron. He sat up and looked at it. The cauldron seemed to simply sit innocently before him, casting ungodly aromas into the air.

"It's your fault, you know," he told it. "If I can't remember anything tomorrow, I'll throw you out the window. And never make Fainting Fancies or Nosebleed Nougats again," he added, turning his attention to the small pile beside it.

Though, all things considering, he supposed it was worth it; Fred seemed to push the trial out of his mind and focus all of his attention on brewing the product. George smirked softly, looking at the lump that was his brother on the other side of the room. Yeah, it was worth it to see Fred grin and laugh again.

George yawned, exhaustion hitting him unexpectedly. "Maybe I'll keep you," he murmured to the cauldron before lying back down and succumbing to sleep.

* * *

"Oi, George! I swear, this is the last time I'm waking you up," Fred said impatiently, shaking his brother's shoulders again.

George peeked up at him through one bleary eye. "Yes, but do you _solemnly_ swear it?" he mumbled, closing his eyes again.

Fred couldn't help but grin in amusement. Ah, yes. Their beloved map that they had so nobly passed on to Harry. He frowned momentarily; what ever happened to it? And how were Harry, Ron, and Hermione fairing? But he shook his head suddenly; _No, bad Fred,_ he scolded himself. He mustn't let George distract him; they _really_ needed to get going. "George, c'mon mate, up and at 'em." He yanked at George's blankets, perhaps a bit too hard.

George yelped as he hit the floor, having clutched on to the blanket for dear life. Fred burst out laughing. "I _said_ get up," he grinned at George's mock glower. It was quite funny, actually. George, normally the more responsible one, was damn near impossible to awaken even when they were running their shop, and no amount of bargaining did what a good shoe in the ribs did. Or any object, really, he wasn't particular about what he threw at him.

"Oh fine," George grouched.

"Good," Fred replied before leaving the room. He bounded down the stairs, letting the worry he'd been shielding for George's benefit come out. He bit his lip as he walked into the kitchen. No one was saying a word; they all just moodily pushed their food around or stared out into space. He sat down, and it was only when he reached for the milk that he realised he was shaking.

"Everyone smile when George comes downstairs," Fred murmured, looking at the tablecloth. "It won't help him if we're upset."

"Yeah, it'll only confuse him," Ginny snorted. "How do you think he'll feel if he's testifying today and we're all cheerful?"

"Relieved," Fred answered solemnly, looking up to stare at his sister. The absolute seriousness on his face was startling; he was never serious. And there was something akin to despair in his eyes that had Ginny looking away, feeling guilty; today would be as hard on Fred as it would be on George.

"Hey, buddy, it'll be okay," Charlie said softly, rubbing Fred's back soothingly. Fred appreciated the comfort, even though he'd never admit it.

"I hear footsteps," Bill announced quietly. Everyone took a deep breath and tried to act normally. So all at once everyone reached for food.

"Hey," George greeted, sitting next to Fred in his usual spot.

"Morning honey," Mrs. Weasley smiled, though it was forced.

There was an awkward silence, and George didn't quite know what to do with himself. Despite his very best efforts, he could not shove down the growing fear brewing in the pit of his stomach. His heart resumed its frantic beating and he swallowed thickly, though he covered his discomfort with a smirk, which he was thankful everyone returned.

He reached for the pumpkin juice, and felt something clamp on to the wrist resting on his lap. He gave a sideways glance at Fred and saw how pale he was. He didn't need to look to know that Fred was clutching on to his wrist for dear life. George gave him a reassuring smile and paid more attention than was necessary into pouring the pumpkin juice, trying to keep his mind off anything remotely related to the trial.

But all too soon it seemed that his father was clearing his throat and saying calmly, "Well, I suppose we should get going; we don't want to be late."

There was a curt nod from everyone else and they all rose. The ride to the Ministry was about as uncomfortable as the first day had been. Everyone seemed to think it imperative to shoot him anxious glances every three seconds. Fred still refused to relinquish his grasp on him; not that George tried, anyway. Normally George would have found the glances irritating, but today, it merely made him all the more nervous.

George found the atmosphere surrounding him disconcertingly similar to that of a family heading towards a funeral as they made their way to the courtroom. Each member of his family looked both somber and beaten, like they hadn't slept for weeks.

Fred's stomach, meanwhile, was twisted in knots as he thought about whether George was going to be able to do this. Whether _he_ would be able to listen to it. He was pretty sure that the moment he got the inkling that George had had enough, he would go absolutely ballistic on everyone. Fred would do everything in his power to stop George's nightmares from getting worse, and he was terrified that, after today, they would.

The younger twin felt Fred's grip on his wrist tighten, and George grimaced. _Maybe I should just lock them outside the courtroom,_ he thought miserably. He could not handle his entire family all emotional again, especially when his nerves would be completely shot already. How was he going to be able to look them in the eye again? If all he saw was sadness and misery in anyone's eyes, particularly Fred's, he'd stare at his feet for the rest of his life.

There was also the fact that George felt like he had too much pride to be able to do what he was expected to do today. The last thing he wanted was to become an embarrassing mess in front of the two gits who had attacked him. He felt like he had something to prove, to show them that they didn't get to him, that George had beaten them in every way; he hadn't broke in that damn dungeon, and he was not going to break now. Or, at least he hoped not.

But could he effectively describe his wretched experience without letting his emotions get the best of him? George seriously doubted it. And as he gave Fred a quick, sideways glance, he felt his stomach churn in guilt at the fear and pain on his face. There was also the 'Fred-aspect.' Instinctively George felt the need to downplay everything, to make it seem not so bad so Fred wouldn't worry too much. It's what he did whenever he got hurt; his broken arm? Nah, it didn't hurt. The burns from an experiment gone awry? Hey, it was nothing!

But if he did it now, then the two prats might not go to jail and George would feel like he hadn't done his whole 'situation' justice. It was almost insulting to say that what he went through 'wasn't that bad.' George sighed; he hated it when he got conflicted like this. He didn't know which one to act on.

And George didn't have much time to figure it out. Too soon it seemed they were nearing the courtroom and George began to panic; he wasn't ready for this! He still didn't know what he was going to do!

Fred felt George begin to pull back, like he was going to turn around and run, and stopped to look at him. George looked anxious, and was shaking his head no. The rest of the family had pulled ahead and didn't notice.

"C'mon, Georgie, you can do it," Fred reassured him with an affectionate squeeze of his hand.

"No, Fred, I –" George began to say, but then stopped. He just eyed the door distressingly, and tugged the hand clasped by Fred urgently, trying to free it.

"George, I'm going to be right there with you," Fred told him seriously, getting his brother to look him in the eye. "If you didn't absolutely have to do this, I wouldn't let you," Fred sighed, looking upset with the whole arrangement.

George looked at his brother for a second and swallowed thickly, nodding reluctantly. Fred led him into the room and past the ever grinning Death Eaters, who sat casually in their seats. They looked equal parts excited and amused that their victim was going to be talking today.

Fred let out a feral sound as he glowered at them, moving George to his other side so he could shield him from their sight. "Well this will be fun," he heard George mutter. "I can't wait to get to the parts they'll just die laughing at."

The older twin didn't think George meant for him to hear, but it angered him further nonetheless. He gritted his teeth in an effort to control his temper as they sat down. Fred grabbed George's hand once more and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles on the back of his hand, trying to calm him.

George was so nervous his teeth were chattering. His heart was doing some kind of erotic dance in his chest and he felt pale. His foot was bouncing continuously and he couldn't help but glance at Sebastien and Horace every few seconds. George felt weird about discussing them while they were just a few feet away.

_Maybe Fred can go up with me,_ George thought to himself with a faint smirk; he wasn't ashamed to admit when he needed his twin with him, but it would kind of eliminate the 'he was stronger than them' theme he was trying to aim for.

Charlie and Bill shared an anxious glance. Neither twin looked too good at the moment. George was nearly hopping up and down in his seat and Fred looked like he might keel over. Charlie bit his lip and continued to look at Bill desperately, wishing their older brother could fix this like he had always been able to do when they were kids.

Bill did the only thing he could do and gave Charlie's shoulder a gentle squeeze, quietly affirming that everything would be alright, even if neither brother believed it. Charlie was grateful for the comfort nonetheless.

All too soon, it seemed, George's lawyer was rising to his feet and moving to address the jury that had filed in only moments before. Ginny gave a little moan and Fred pulled her in to a one armed hug, though his eyes never left Mr. Malkuivich.

The man walked to the judge, unbeknownst to many members of the jury, and had a brief conversation in which the judge nodded his consent to something. "Good morning," he said, though his tone was grave. Immediately the light chatter in the jury died until the absolute silence was almost maddening. "Today is the day I'm sure many have been secretly waiting to hear. The victim, George Weasley, will be telling us exactly what happened the night he was attacked, but I must stress one important thing. I ask all of you to be patient today, no matter your curiosity. Giving details on such an experience is not easy, and the judge has kindly given George full permission to stop and take a break anytime he feels he needs it. This may take more than one day, be aware of that."

Malkuivich turned and walked towards the Weasley family, much to their surprise. He stopped before George with a face full of compassion. "Take however long you need," he said softly so no one else in the room could hear. "We'll get through this." He extended a hand to the ginger, offering his silent support.

George stared at him for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before his face collapsed in utter relief and gratitude. Some of the overly tense muscles in his body loosened some as he grabbed his hand and stood, feeling a huge rush of affection for his lawyer course through him.

It was only when George was seated did Malkuivich begin to pace the floor like he was wont to. "Mr. Weasley –"

"George," the younger twin blurted out. He flushed a bit. "You, er, can call me George."

Malkuivich smiled and nodded. "George, exactly how did you end up travelling to the Ministry of Magic?"

"Er, well," George nervously began, "Mr. Kingsley visited us a while ago and Fred and I overheard him saying he needed two people to do a job for him, but that no one was available." He remembered distinctly Kingsley's testimony where he skipped over mentioning the Order or anyone else involved, and went with that. "So we offered to do it."

"Did you already know what it was about?" Malkuivich inquired.

George shrugged. "Not beforehand. We were just bored."

Several members of the jury laughed, causing George to relax a bit more and grin. He shared a glance with Fred and found to his relief that he was grinning too.

"So when you found out," Malkuivich continued with a small smile, "what were you to do?"

"Well, one person was to try and find out information from people while the other was to just retrieve an envelope with the assassination plans," George explained. "We figured that Fred would probably be better at coaxing out information based upon how often he got us out of trouble at school by tricking our teachers into thinking that they had mistaken us for a couple of house elves."

There was more laughter and George brightened even more. The funny part was that it _was_ the basis of their decision. "So I was just supposed to get the envelope."

"Would you kindly describe exactly what happened during that operation?"

The silence was back, and George found everyone's eager gaze slightly unnerving. George knitted his eyebrows together slightly in concentration. "Well, Fred left earlier than I did, but I was made to look like a Ministry employee. I went to the bathroom where they flush themselves into the building. I knew the exact time and stall I was supposed to go in to. When I got there I 'accidentally' bumped a bloke out of the way and –" He stopped, looking suddenly stunned.

"What is it?" Malkuivich asked urgently. Fred tensed and leaned forward in his seat, anxious that George might have somehow slipped into a flashback.

George looked at Horace's annoyed expression. "Merlin's beard," he breathed. "It was _you_ I bumped in to." Everyone followed his gaze and gasped. There was an outbreak of excited murmurs.

"Order!" the judge exclaimed, effectively silencing the jury.

"Go on," Malkuivich encouraged.

"Er, right," George said, eyeing Horace with something akin to wonder. "Anyways, I bumped, well, him, out of line so I could cut in quickly to enter the right stall. I closed the door and sure enough, an envelope was hovering just above the toilet. I stuffed it into my jacket and entered the Ministry."

"I was feeling pretty accomplished," George admitted sheepishly. "I went down some deserted corridor and taped a series of bricks to open the one loose brick where I hid the envelope in. I went to the nearest fireplace to Floo out of there, and, well, I think we all know how that went," he grimaced.

"You were struck on the head before you could leave," Malkuivich clarified. George nodded. "What happened when you awoke?"

George's whole being changed dramatically. The slight good humour in which he told the story disappeared, and George's recently returned colour once again drained from his face. Scenes unwillingly flashed before George's eyes and he shut them quickly, fighting the urge to breathe rather rapidly. He clenched his jaw to keep from speaking and fought with all his might a flashback that was threatening to burst forth.

Fred stared at him in horror and made to get to his feet, but Charlie restrained him quickly. "What are you doing?" he hissed, glaring fiercely at his brother. "George –"

"You can't just walk up there," Charlie said quietly, his worried eyes glued to his other younger brother.

Fred swore under his breath, struggling to get away from Charlie. Panic was rising quickly inside him. He _had_ to get up there! George needed him! He had to pull him out of it…he had to help him!

"George, do you need a minute?" Malkuivich asked gently, looking concerned.

George took a shaky breath and gripped the armrests. He internally scolded himself for being so easily defeated. _Get a grip!_ he growled in his head. _You're looking like an idiot; they're going to think they won, that they broke you! _

"They didn't," he whispered, but the uncertainty was painfully clear to him.

"Pardon me?" Malkuivich said.

"No," George answered roughly, opening his eyes and resting his hard gaze on his attackers. He was white in the face and felt sick to his stomach; he was terrified beyond belief and miserable as anyone could be, but dammit, _he was not weak._ "I'm fine."

A strangled sound escaped from Fred's throat as he looked at his brother desperately. George was going to get through this in one sitting if it killed him; he could see it in his eyes. George was the most stubborn person he had ever known, the kind of stubborn where if he got both his legs chopped off he'd still insist on walking. If his mind was set on something, he would destroy himself in the process if it meant reaching his goal, and Fred knew no amount of pleading would ever get him to change his mind. _Oh Georgie, you're not invincible!_ Fred cried in his head. _Don't do this!_

"I came to slowly," George finally got out, though it still looked like he was struggling internally with himself. His blue eyes stood out drastically against his pale skin, looking both haunted yet furiously determined. "It was the cold that awoke me, because I remember thinking it strange."

"Strange?" Malkuivich prodded.

_Don't encourage him!_ Fred screamed in his head, but he couldn't get his mouth to work. Ginny poked his shoulder, alarmed. "Fred? Are you alright?" Fred didn't answer, and wouldn't even if he could.

"Yes," George answered. "It was April; it was getting warmer, not colder."

"Please continue."

"Fred?" Ginny tried again, staring at him worriedly.

Fred gave her a glare before focusing on George again, jaw clenched tightly and his hands balled into fists. Ginny heeded his warning, though she didn't take offence.

More scenes flashed before George's eyes and he, if possible, went even paler. He swallowed a lump in his throat and said hoarsely, "The pain on my head flared up again. I tried to reach for it, but found my arms chained above my head."

Fred snarled viciously; the chains thing really bothered him. George had been restricted like he was an animal, a worthless creature. Even Azkaban didn't have chains.

"When I opened my eyes, the place was dim at best," George continued timorously. "But from what I could see, the place was filthy and wet. The entire room was made of stones. I started struggling, but I think it was the sound of the chains clanging together that alerted them that I was awake." Fred's hatred for the chains grew.

"The lights suddenly came on, which blinded me at first," George said as indifferently as he could. His hands were in fists themselves, digging his nails into his palm to keep him from giving in to the memories. "I didn't see them approach, but one of them grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. A wand was pressed to my throat. One of them asked where the envelope was. I was still trying to comprehend what was going on, so I said I didn't know what they were talking about. One of them punched me."

"Where?" Malkuivich asked sharply overly Fred's muffled shouts.

"In the jaw," George replied as he chanced a glance and found to his detached amusement Charlie wrestling with his brother. He had a hand clamped firmly over Fred's mouth and was trying to force him into his seat. Ginny just looked uncomfortable and Bill…Bill wasn't doing anything. George felt a twinge of confusion; Bill was just staring at him. Normally he'd be over there dog-piling on Fred to keep him under control. The jury noticed Fred's indignation and George saw them shift awkwardly in their seats.

"Continue," Malkuivich said.

George swallowed thickly again, his jaw quivering a bit with the force he fought the memories with. "They asked me again," George said in a strained voice, "So I told them to sod off."

Ginny moaned and buried her face in her hands. In any other circumstance she'd laugh, but she knew in that case, saying something like that would only cause George more pain.

"What happened?" Malkuivich encouraged.

George glanced at Fred, who stared at him, momentarily frozen, before looking right at the smirking defendants. "They used the _Cruciatus_ Curse," he somehow got out.

The jury gasped and Fred let out a stifled roar and struggled all the more. Fred already knew that George had been tortured that way, but it did nothing whatsoever to lessen the pain and fury at hearing it.

George winced as he heard his Mum sob into his father's shoulder, and he pointedly refused to look at any of them. He looked at the wall opposite him like he found the brickwork fascinating, keeping his face void of all emotions.

Bill, meanwhile, had finally snapped out of whatever daze he had been in and jumped into the fighting of his two brothers with an authoritative hiss. He ordered Ginny to take his seat so he could sit on the other side of Fred; between himself and Charlie, they could surely restrain Fred from murdering anyone. Though he seriously considered 'accidentally' setting him loose on the two bastards before him.

Fred fought against his brother's combined strength, seeing nothing but red, but angrily found himself held against his seat despite his wishes. He glared murderously at Sebastien and Horace before looking up at his twin. George seemed absolutely focused on the wall in front of him and his gaze never wavered. Fred desperately wanted to catch his eye so he could see if George had had enough. He suspected so, but until he was sure, he had no such strength to be able to throw off Charlie and Bill.

"Order!" the judge bellowed, casting Fred a hard look. "Mr. Weasley, control yourself or you will be removed!" Fred glowered at him but grudgingly stopped fighting. "I think a fifteen minute break is in order," he said sharply.

George felt like collapsing with relief, but he remained as rigid as he was before. He didn't cause this break, so he found himself allowing it without too much annoyance with himself.

If only someone could pry him off the chair…

* * *

Reviews would be much appreciated :D And I hope you all liked these two chapters!


	10. Author's Note

I know, I know, the dreaded 'author's note' :/ But I figured it'd be easier to inform everyone this way rather than posting on my profile because I doubt very much that anyone checks it on a regular basis :P

I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm moving in about a week, give or take a few days, and I won't be updating for I'm anticipating two weeks or so. It's a bloody hassle, and I apologise for the inconvenience as the preparations for everything have been going on for at least a month now :( I swear, no one move _ever._ Speaking as someone who's moved seven times in sixteen years, it's not worth it :P

I wouldn't call this a 'hiatus' if anyone's interested, because that makes it sound like I won't be updating for months. I'll get right back on track as soon as I can but if you could all just bear with me here, I would very much appreciate it :)

Thank you to all who reviewed! I'm sorry I can't list who did, I'm literally typing this as I'm being ushered out of the door, but you have all been fairly regular with your reviews and I can't tell you how much I love you guys for it :) You are all absolutely fantastic.

~ MaddyGervais


	11. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay, but all of your understanding and support was so kind and made me feel slightly less guilty about my absence :P I'm still not moved in yet but I'm staying at a hotel with wifi - thank God - until the movers arrive so I thought I'd update! :D Even though it's 1:40 in the morning I'm pretty much high off of Diet Coke and Oreos :D haha but anyways, I hope you all like this chapter and thank you all so much again for just being the fabulous people that you are! :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing!

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **T

The moment the judge had declared a break, Fred Weasley just about threw his two older brothers into a wall as he wrenched himself free from their grasp. He stumbled and nearly fell flat on his face in his haste to reach a stagnant and tense George still seated at the stand, but he somehow managed to get there without causing anyone bodily harm.

"George?" Fred murmured softly, suddenly unsure of how to approach him. George's eyes were unfocused and distant, and Fred felt a bit panicked as he reached forward and shook George's shoulder a bit roughly. "Georgie?"

George jumped at the contact, whipping his head to where Fred stood uncertainly with the same terror in his eyes as Fred had been accustom to seeing whenever George awoke from a particularly horrid nightmare. Fred's heart broke at the look and he knelt down in front of the suddenly terrified ginger. But once George registered that it was his twin before him, he relaxed a little and offered a wan smile. "Hey Fred."

Fred's expression was pained. "Are you okay?" he asked, though he knew it was a stupid question.

George took a deep breath, forcing his memories down in favour of focusing on Fred. "I suppose," he shrugged. "I'd be better if I could wipe those smirks off their faces," he grumbled, nodding towards were Horace and Sebastien were indeed leering at them.

Fred's eyes flashed, his hands curling into fists. "I'm starting to think their punishments lay outside governmental laws," he growled.

George snorted in agreement. "I'm sure we could come up with something more suitable."

There was a moment of silence and Fred looked a bit uncomfortable, but seemed determined to say something. "Look, George…I, er, just wanted to say that…whenever you think you're being sucked back into another flashback, just…know that nothing like that won't ever happened again, okay? Because first of all they'd have to get through me and you know just as well as I do that I'm pretty damn stubborn. And we're not going to be separated again, so…there. Even when you pull one of your disappearing acts – which I really hate, by the way – I'll always find you. So don't…don't worry about it."

George knew that wasn't easy for Fred to say and felt a rush of affection for him. He gave him a lopsided smile and looked at his brother with complete trust. "We better not," he agreed, "because I'll be absolutely bloody bored without you, mate."

Fred grinned. "Glad I'm good for something. He settled comfortably on the arm of George's chair, but frowned a little. "You know, I think you're right; about Rutsklich, I mean. He's not acting like a lawyer should."

George nodded. "There might be something more to this Ministry corruption. I mean, look at Mr. Malkuivich and look at Rutsklich. They're on completely different playing fields. Something's going on, Fred, and I don't like it."

The two were silent again for a few contemplative moments before Fred finally spoke. "Well, we can worry about it later. I think you have more pressing concerns." He looked at George a tad worriedly. "Are you _sure_ you're up for this? Maybe we can work something else out so you don't have to speak…" he sounded a bit desperate.

George gave a half-hearted shrug. "I'll be fine, just…don't kill them," he said with a slight smirk. "At least until we can get them alone without any witnesses." He took a deep breath. "I think I need to do this. I sure as hell won't look like I'm afraid of those tossers," he said determinedly.

Fred nodded reluctantly. He understood, but he just wished he didn't have to go through it in the first place.

George further relaxed into his chair, feeling a lot calmer and more comfortable with Fred by his side. He wondered for the second time if he could have Fred stay up there with him, and he knew Fred was thinking the same thing. Fred would fight tooth and nail when someone would eventually tell him to sit down, and George secretly hoped he would win.

And true to George's speculations, when the judge called the court back into order ten minutes later, it took Bill and Charlie some doing to drag Fred back to his seat. They had bite and claw marks to prove it. Fred turned downright cantankerous when they first told him he had to go sit down and threatened to use them as ingredients for their next product if they tried to make him leave.

So now that Fred was looking murderous about being held in his seat, Charlie figured he'd probably be staying with Bill and Fleur for the next week or so. George didn't look like he fancied the idea either; he was nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt and glancing at his twin every few seconds.

_Calm down,_ George ordered himself, trying to get himself back into the right mind frame. _Don't look like a cowardly fool in front of those gits,_ he instructed. _Act like it doesn't bother you. Think of something else…something pleasant…like…ice cream! Or Umbridge drowning in the Black Lake while being eaten alive by tiny house-elves. _George smiled happily. _Ahhh, that's better. I should really think about putting that into action…Is Umbridge even alive? I hope not. I think Harry said she was whisked away by angry centaurs she insulted and tried to strangle. Fred and I should probably think about getting them a thank you gift…_

George continued his internal monologue until Malkuivich interrupted his thoughts with a call of his name. _Umbridge, Black Lake, tiny house-elves, Umbridge, Black Lake…_ George thought determinedly as he focused on his lawyer.

"George, please tell us; after the defendants tortured you with the _Cruciatus _Curse," Malkuivich said as gently as he could, "what did they do?"

_Watching Umbridge drown in the Black Lake while eating ice cream…_ George said even louder in his head as he paled a little at the memory. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, er, they did it for a while…" he said evasively, fidgeting a bit in his seat.

Fred growled angrily beneath Bill's hand, which was effectively welded on to his mouth to prevent any unpleasant words from pouring out of it. His eyes bored into the Death Eaters before him as he snarled venomously in his head, _You'll never lay another finger on him again, you bastards!_

"How long?" Malkuivich pressed.

George suppressed a groan. "Almost until I blacked out," he tried to say as indifferently as he could. He heard Fred's muffled cries of outrage from somewhere to his left, and he cringed at the other sounds of shock, anger, and despair emanating from his family.

Malkuivich blinked in surprise. "They didn't stop?"

George smiled wryly without a trace of humour on his face. "Did you really expect them to?"

Malkuivich seemed unable to comprehend this. "Not once?" he said, baffled. "They just recited the curse and never lifted it? There were no intervals?"

George swallowed his annoyance at his lawyer's persistence and smirked again, though he found nothing funny about the situation. "They stopped before I lost consciousness, if you want to count that as an interval."

"Very…very well, George…please continue."

George fixated his gaze on the wall before him and forced himself into a detached state. "They asked me again where the envelope was," George said tonelessly. "I wasn't very lucid, mind you, but I either said I didn't know or I just didn't answer because they…they, erm, then proceeded to torture me until I…until I did black out." He swallowed thickly, remembering how he writhed and shook in agony as he begged them to stop. They never did.

"As hard as it might be, I need you to elaborate on when they used the _Cruci –"_

"Fine," George interrupted, his voice filled forced calmness. "When they first used it on me, I was surprised. I expected more of an interrogation. I don't think I need to describe the pleasantries of being under that particular curse, do I?" he asked wryly. Malkuivich shook his head. "They kept it up, like I said, until I nearly passed out. I vaguely remember pleading with them to stop but they just laughed while they did it. When they finally stopped, Sebastien jerked my head upwards by my hair and demanded where the envelope was again. My mind was fuzzy and I was in pain, but I was angry too. I told them I had no idea what they were talking about. Sebastien spat on my face before booting me in the ribs. He told Horace that he didn't think I had enough yet and Horace used the _Cruciatus _Curse on me until I did pass out."

Fred moaned in anguish, wrenching his arms free from Bill and Charlie so he could cover up his face as he doubled over in his seat. He didn't cry, but he couldn't stop the shaking of his shoulders or the miserable sounds to tear from his throat.

George, for one, looked emotionless. His face was blank and there was not a waver in his voice. He stared coldly at the wall before him, and the only evidence that the questions were having any effect on him was his balled fists in his lap. On the inside, he was fighting with whatever he had left in him a series of flashbacks that were just dying to exploit themselves. They danced beneath George's careful control, ramming themselves forward, determined to break through. He had never had to hold back so many before, and he wondered idly if he'd be able to for very long.

Fred was the only one who saw past the indifferent façade. Only he could see the flickers of fear and agony in his blue eyes as they fluttered towards the surface briefly before being hastily shoved down. That is, he saw past it when he forced himself up from his hands to stare at George through his burning eyes. But when he did, Fred covered his face again.

Ginny was torn between grief for George and alarm for the current mental standings of the identical brother beside her. Fred didn't seem in his right mind to show such a display of emotion in front of not only his family, but strangers as well. If Ginny hadn't seen that Fred's eyes were dry in the one time he looked up from his hands, she would have sworn he'd been crying. He made the appropriate sounds and gestures; the shuddering breaths, the trembling shoulders, the unmistakable need to hide his face from the world…no, Fred was not in his right mind. But Ginny wondered if any of them were.

Mrs. Weasley was having just as hard of a time as Fred. Hearing her son, one of the twins at that, retell the horrors he went through four months ago would have any mother turning into her husband's shoulder and crying hysterically. Mr. Weasley did the best he could to comfort her, but he was distraught himself. What bothered her most at the moment was the detached, clipped tone in which George described his first experience with the _Cruciatus _Curse. She wasn't sure what would scare her more; George falling apart or acting distant and uninterested, like he was now. Her twins had always been emotional people – though the extent of their emotions ran from anger to pleasure with next to nothing in between. Nevertheless, George's tone was so ill-fitting for the words coming out of his mouth that she almost wished he would show some sort of emotion even if he broke down.

She gulped in between tears as she watched through bloodshot and watery eyes her son being questioned by the ever compassionate lawyer. And despite the family's mutual respect and liking for the man, Mrs. Weasley wanted nothing more than to scold him for pushing her poor Georgie into talking and strike fear into the two deplorable men who had done this in the first place.

"What happened when you awoke from that?" Malkuivich pressed.

George clenched his fists tighter before getting out, "I didn't awake on my own accord; they forced me to revive." That was one fact he wanted to get painfully clear.

"What happened?" Malkuivich asked softly.

George took a deep breath. He was going to get through this…he had to. "I awoke to find Horace rummaging through a bag."

Fred's head shot up and he stared at George in horror. _The bag…the torture bag…_

"Sebastien was the one that revived me. Horace took out a long kitchen knife and approached me with it. He asked if I had changed my mind. I knew what he meant; he was asking if I was going to tell them about the envelope. I stared at the knife for a long time before I shook my head no. Horace grinned, like he was almost glad that I refused, and drove the knife into my leg."

There was a string of gasps that emitted from the jury, their eyes wide. "Where on the leg?" Malkuivich asked in a contemplating voice.

"Left thigh."

Fred gave strangled moan and George winced something terrible. That was one of the deepest wounds George had received. Charlie hesitantly put an arm around Fred's shoulders – Fred wasn't normally one for public affection with anyone but his twin – and gave him a squeeze. Fred, regardless of public scrutiny, was grateful and leaned into the embrace.

George was desperate to make Fred feel better, but he noted miserably that there wasn't anything he could do. It was an effort just to keep himself from breaking down. The images were so vicious, so haunting that he was more than a little surprised to find himself still plowing on. He knew the only way for any of them to get through this trial was for George to shut down, to completely eliminate any emotion from his being. So he did, and he no longer had to pretend.

"I screamed," George said in that impassive voice that every member of his family despised; it wasn't _normal_ for George to speak without his usual air of bravado or amusement or just _something._ In a sense, this was worse than if George were crying. His lack of emotion proved how bad things were.

"Though I suspect this is obvious," George said tonelessly. Bill could bloody _hear_ how George _would_ have said it in his sarcastic manner, and it was eating at him furiously that there was no inflection, no roll of the eyes, no _nothing._ "Blood poured everywhere, and they laughed again. The pain I believe goes without saying. Sebastien was smirking but he asked again if I was ready to give up. I felt furious, even though I should have been afraid at the time. I spat at them but said nothing. They weren't smiling anymore."

You could hear a pin drop it was so deadly silent. Fred pressed his fingers to his lips so hard they turned white. He wanted to scream; scream at George for not just telling them where the envelope was because in all honesty, he didn't bloody _care_ whether the Prime Minister died at the moment; he _cared_ that his twin had been mercilessly tortured for a man who would never truly appreciate it; he wanted to scream at the two bloody Death Eaters before him who had done this to his poor brother; he just wanted to scream at the _world_ for letting it happen. Whatever bad fortune had befallen his twin, he wanted to scream at it for _choosing_ his brother and not some other poor sap he didn't know.

"Horace punched me in the face so hard I nearly blacked out because of that," George said apathetically, his glued to the wall opposite him. "They weren't amused anymore. Horace traded the large knife for a smaller one. He placed the tip on my other thigh and asked in a frustrated voice if I was going to tell them. I said no. He dug the knife in a little deep, but it hurt like hell nonetheless. I screamed again; my throat was sore by this point. He asked again. I said no. He dug it in deeper and twisted the blade. Is me pointing out me screaming relevant anymore?" he suddenly asked, his gaze intense and locked on his lawyer.

Malkuivich seemed a bit taken aback by the sudden question, but replied, "No, that's quite alright." Some members of the jury had silent streams of tears coursing down their cheeks.

George gave a curt not, suddenly oblivious to Fred's wretched gaze or the cries of the rest of his family for that matter.

George fixated his stare on the one square brick across from him. "When I still refused to comply, Sebastien stomped on my ribs. Horace dug the blade in deeper. I blacked out. I believe this is when they let me stay unconscious for a bit, but they woke me up forcibly once more. They seemed panicked now and demanded to know who Fred was."

Everyone looked confused and troubled, and their interest in the case only seemed to grow stronger. Rutsklich, as he had been throughout the trial, looked at George with deep concentration. Fred himself was staring at George in puzzlement. "I was confused because I wasn't aware they knew who my twin was. They told me I had said the name Fred in my 'sleep.' I told them that I had a twin named Fred. It occurred to me that there must be a Fred out there somewhere that they were afraid of."

"Why did you say Fred's name?" Malkuivich inquired.

"Because whenever I was hurt or upset I went to Fred," George replied tonelessly, almost as if bored. He didn't have it in him to feel embarrassed. He didn't have it in him to feel anything, really. "And as you can imagine, I was in a great deal of pain."

Fred looked at George like he had never properly seen him in his life. To him, and perhaps only him, George's admittance that he had uttered his name while unconscious was earth shattering. Of course Fred knew George loved him. But for some unexplainable reason, this revelation meant more to him than any rare-spoken 'I love you.' It shouldn't have surprised Fred, really, considering George _did_ go to him for comfort; but even in such adversity, all George had wanted was his twin to sit beside him and tell him everything would be alright. And Fred felt such a rush of love and sadness as he had never known in his life.

So it made it all the more painful to hear George continue. "Once they were satisfied I didn't know their Fred, the fun picked right back up. They continued to shout and badger me about where the envelope was and I kept saying I didn't know. They stabbed me again and again on my legs and on my back. I don't know how long this went on. I was bleeding everywhere, and their frustration only seemed to increase. Sebastien proceeded to kick and punch anywhere he could. Horace got a wooden plank from the bag in the room and beat me with it. I was knocked unconscious again." A few female voices in the jury were making their sorrow for him known, but George paid them no mind.

"They awoke me again, but I got the feeling that I was unconscious for longer that time. I was scared out of my mind at the time," George said, careful to phrase it as if he no longer was afraid of them. "And I was in excruciating pain. But the best part was yet to come. When I came to, they didn't look any less furious than when I got knocked out. They yelled and screamed at me to tell them where the envelope was, and Horace ended up getting so frustrated he stomped on my left shin." George closed his eyes. "And then Sebastien reached into the bag."

There was silence once more as everyone watched George battle his inner demons. Roars of voices and pain struck George violently, but he swallowed and said quietly, "He pulled out a bottle. Sebastien said it was concentrated alcohol, and that it should loosen up my tongue. It did, in a way," he smirked wryly, opening his eyes. "He shouted that I tell him where the envelope was as he poured the alcohol on my legs and back. I didn't answer, and eventually I fell unconscious once more."

"But the next time I awoke, it wasn't because Sebastien or Horace had done so. I heard my brother's voice. I couldn't believe it," he said with the faintest of smiles. "It shocked me into opening my eyes. It _was_ Fred. And told him I knew he'd find me. And then I passed out again."

George felt like it was a rather lame way to end his testimony, but he didn't know what else to say. And strangely, or perhaps not so much so, he felt no relief at having finished. Because to him it never was finished. The nightmares wouldn't stop because his testimony was done and over with; his fears and pain wouldn't automatically disintegrate. George was stuck with them forever. It was never over.

"Thank you, George," Malkuivich said quietly yet full with sympathy. "I have no further questions."

"That's enough for today," the judge declared, banging on his gavel. "We will meet back here tomorrow."

_Tomorrow._

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Review if you have the time :) It makes me very happy!


	12. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: ***peeks head out* ...hi...I'm sorry everyone, it's been an insanely long, but I completely forgot how time consuming moving in was. That, and the fact that I had a very stubborn case of Writer's Block :/ I hope you all like this chapter nonetheleas even if it's more of a filler than anything else. And cross your fingers that I've gotten over my Writer's Block for good!

And a huge thank you to **Submarine19, Spiralling-Down, GeorgieForever, Jojo, mebyrne, The Missing Twin, brokenpaperdoll, Aris1013,** and **MyOwnPurpleWorld** for reviewing! :D They make me so freaking happy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything worthwhile.

**Summary: **Four months after 'the incident,' George has to face his attackers in court. Fred is bent on getting him through it, but can he even handle it himself?

**Rating: **K+

* * *

_**By Your Side**_

**Chapter Eleven**

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley, can you tell us how you felt about reliving your experience?"

"Was it hard for you to give your testimony?"

"What do you think is on everyone's minds right now?"

"Do you think Horace and Sebastien regret their actions?"

Questions were being thrown at George so quickly there was barely time for him to respond even if he wanted to. It seemed like one moment the judge was banging his gavel and the next bloodthirsty reporters were on him like a fresh piece of meat. After only a few seconds he was already fairly certain he would never fully rid the spots from his eyes from the bright flashes of the cameras.

"S-Sorry?" George stammered, taken aback. How on earth did they get to him so quickly? They had never been able to come this close before.

"Oi! You all better take one _giant_ step back or I promise you there will be _hell _to pay!" a dangerously angry yet so very welcome voice bellowed behind the group.

_Fred. Thank God,_ George thought in stunned relief. Fred elbowed his way through the group, seething and looking murderous. "Are you okay?" he asked in a slightly clipped tone, giving George a once over.

"Fine," George murmured, refusing to look anyone in the eye.

Fred pulled George up a little roughly by the arm, clutching him close and glaring at all of the reporters still itching for a story. "What did I say?" he snarled, his grip tightening painfully so. "Back the _bloody hell_ off!"

Grudgingly it seemed, the people slowly edged away, leaving enough space for the twins to push through. Fred kept up a steady growl, warning the reporters constantly that under no circumstances was Fred 'mentally stable' at the moment.

George glanced at his brother, and had to stifle a small gasp of surprise. Fred's normally blue eyes were black, smouldering with barely repressed fury and loathing. His wand sparked in his hand so much so that a few people had to actually dodge the small flecks of fire. George had only seen him this angry one other time in his life, and that was soon after 'the incident' when Fred seemed to replace all of his grief with rage. He had to be under constant supervision then because people were worried that Fred would hunt Horace and Sebastien down and actually kill them.

Fred didn't say a word as they approached their family. He felt like he was burning from the inside out, like everything inside of him was on fire and screaming for vengeance, for some kind of penance for the cruel torture of his brother. Fred wanted to lock Horace and Sebastien up in the same dastardly conditions and make them feel every bit of pain that George had to feel and then more simply because Fred didn't think it would be enough. He wanted to _break them._ He wanted to hurt them so badly that they could never recover, both physically and mentally. For the second time in his life, Fred felt like he could make even You-Know-Who seem tame in comparison.

And he knew George saw, he knew his family saw as they stood by the door with their sympathising expressions that made both twins bristle at. It only served to heighten Fred's anger to even more hazardous levels as he felt his twin tense underneath his fingertips. George hated pity, and right now Fred wasn't sure he could keep him from lashing out harshly even to his parents if anyone said a single word. But he also saw the quick glance shared between Charlie and Bill, and he knew they were concerned about his mental state. He knew they knew exactly how dangerous Fred was at the moment.

But Fred didn't care. He didn't care one iota as long as they got home _right bloody now_ so he could lock himself and George in their room so Fred could prowl around him and threaten _anything_ that came within one hundred yards of them. He didn't care about anything but revenge and keeping George safe, even if it seemed ludicrous.

Fred stalked towards the train with an iron grip on George's forearm and hesitant family members trailing behind. Everyone was silent, and on the train Fred forced George to sit while he stood in front of him like a body guard, his eyes swiveling back and forth suspiciously like he expected an attack at any moment. But still no one said anything. No one found the situation humourous in any way, nor did anyone complain that he was being ridiculous. If the idea occurred to them, one look into Fred's eyes shut them up without a second thought. Fred would not think twice about cursing anyone into oblivion if they so much as gave him an inkling to do so. The other people on the train seemed to sense the seriousness of Fred's protective stance and wisely stayed away from them.

George meanwhile did not roll his eyes behind Fred's back or make some kind of half-hearted protest at his actions like he usually would have. He simply stared at his feet and let his mind go blank. George trusted Fred inexplicably, so doing so was not hard, but a small, responsible part of his brain wondered if Fred was acting so abrasive because he trusted George to rein him back in when he went too far. And how could he do so when he zoned out?

_Shut up,_ he told it in a bit of a daze, and his mind went blissfully silent.

When they arrived at the Burrow, Fred dragged George upstairs and slammed the door, knowing without a doubt that the rest of the family would convene in the kitchen and talk about his odd behaviour and perhaps what they should do about it. Fred didn't let go of George's wrist until he shoved him on his bed and left to pace agitatedly in front of the door, locking it for good measure. What exactly he thought would come barging through it, he didn't quite know, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

George, meanwhile, almost seemed dumbstruck. His mind had shut down under orders and he didn't have the brain capacity or the will to tell it to turn back on. It was a wonder he could even recognise the fact, truth be told. It was like a faint buzzing of a fly kept playing in the space between his ears and George should have been wondering if this was at all a normal reaction to the day's events. He should have been angry or sad or just an extreme of an emotion in general, but here he was just mildly staring at the floor while his irate brother worked a hole into the floor by his pacing. But George couldn't think about that any more than he could wring an emotion from him. He was just numb and _blank, _and perfectly content in remaining that way, because to be frank, he was tired of emotions.

It took a while before George realised that Fred was asking him a question, and by the irritated look on his face, he'd asked it more than once. "What's that?" he murmured distractedly.

"_You, _George!" Fred suddenly (or it seemed sudden to George) growled, fists clenched but with an unmistakable look of concern hidden in his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Me? Oh, yeah, m'fine," George mumbled, blinking a few times like he rose from a deep slumber. "Just, erm…just…" he didn't quite know how to finish that sentence. He was suddenly positively knackered. George waved his hand in Fred's general direction and yawned. "Keep doing…what you're doing…m'just gonna…yeah…" He pushed back the covers and crawled underneath them, finding the bed the most comfortable thing in the entire world, and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Fred stared at his twin and allowed his expression to soften momentarily before waves of anger hit him again. He gritted his teeth and fought the overwhelming urge to hit something. Fred leaned against the door before sliding to the ground and massaging his temples in a half-hearted effort to combat the lurking stress-induced headache. His wand had been discarded on the ground after becoming too hot to be handled due to his anger.

It was like a black cloud had just swooped down and consumed him and he didn't know how to get rid of it without doing something profoundly illegal. People often underestimated how far Fred (and George for that matter) was willing to go to prove a point, but it wasn't just that. This wasn't just a 'point,' but a way to ensure his brother's safety, and for that, Fred would do almost anything.

A small snore cut through his line of thinking, and Fred looked at the peaceful, sleeping face of his twin. He almost smiled.

* * *

There was a knock at the door some time later.

"Fred? George? You guys in here?"

_That's a stupid question,_ Fred thought at the same time a part of his brain recognised the speaker with a resounding, _Charlie._ The younger ginger grunted as a way of acknowledgement. The door slowly, tentatively, opened like Charlie was afraid of being attacked. Fred smirked a little at that.

When Charlie got his body fully in the room, he took in his surroundings. There was a lump on the bed and a tired looking Fred sitting with his knees against his chest and leaning on the wall next to the door. A cauldron was shoved in the corner with a pile of oddly coloured products beside it. "He's sleeping?" Charlie asked in slight surprise, moving to sit beside Fred so he was against the door.

"In shock, I think," Fred murmured, his eyes never leaving George's shape. "He went to bed the moment he came in. Seemed dazed."

"You haven't checked on him?" Charlie asked in mild alarm, racking his brain to try and remember what to do when someone went into shock.

"Don't be thick," Fred snapped, sounding a little insulted. "Besides, he's under as many blankets as I could possibly conjure, not to mention the warming charm. You're supposed to stay warm when in shock. He hasn't been sleeping well either, so resting would do him good."

"Ah," Charlie said, not quite knowing what else to say. There was a small pause before Charlie cleared his throat and said, "Listen, Fred, are…are you okay?"

"Mum sent you up to check on me?"

"I think it's warranted. And no she didn't." Fred gave his older brother a fleeting glance before looking back at George. He didn't respond.

"I'm going to take your silence as a 'no.'"

Still nothing.

Charlie sighed. "Look, Fred, as surprising as this might seem, we _are_ actually worried about you –"

"I would think the answer would be obvious," Fred said testily. "My bloody twin just described to us how exactly he was tortured. But no, I'm just walking on air right now, Charlie, thanks for asking."

Charlie didn't know whether to be annoyed or thankful that at least Fred was talking to him. "Sorry," he eventually said, figuring it best not to push him. "It just seemed like something I should ask."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Fred gave an annoyed huff and said, "If you're just going to sit there, you can go downstairs and finish your conversation with everyone else about whether or not to lock me up."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Are you always so positive or am I just lucky?"

Fred snorted. "Please, don't act like that's not what you guys were talking about."

"Well, I'm not going to deny that they're worried it'll be necessary, but if it were up to me, I'd help you."

It was Fred's turn to be surprised. "Really?"

"I want to beat those two to a pulp almost as much as you do," Charlie said threateningly, his expression darkening. "Whether you two like it or not, you're my little brothers and if anyone has a problem with you or George, it's my job to disembowel them."

Fred stared at Charlie for a second before his entire expression changed and he burst out laughing, and Charlie couldn't help but laugh too. "Shush!" Charlie chortled, swatting Fred on the shoulder. "You'll wake him up, you git!"

Almost as if on cue George he mumbled an unintelligible string of sounds in his sleep and rolled over, his mouth agape like he was shocked about something. That sent them into a fresh fit of giggles.

"I always knew you were our favourite brother for a reason," Fred grinned, wiping away tears of laughter from his eyes.

Charlie winked. "You seem to forget that I'm the one you two modeled after when you were little."

"Ah yes," Fred said a little dreamily. "Well, once we've accepted out awards for being the greatest people on earth in the very near future, we'll be sure to thank you for helping us become so outstandingly brilliant."

"Will nothing diminish your ego?" Charlie smirked.

"Nope," Fred said cheerfully, so utterly like his normal self that Charlie really hated to have to change the subject. But he had to know.

"Did you…er, did you know about any of the things that, erm, that George talked about?" Charlie asked hesitantly.

As quickly as Fred's good mood had come, it vanished into thin air. "Yeah," Fred mumbled, returning his gaze to George. "I knew about the _Cruciatus _curse and that he'd been stabbed. I didn't know about the alcohol, the bastards," he snarled. "As if it hadn't been enough."

"They're sadistic gits is what they are –"

"I'm not going to let them break him," Fred said so suddenly and fiercely that Charlie started. Fred's hands were clenched into fists, yet his chin rested on his drawn-up knees. "It's what they tried to do, it's the only thing they aimed to do and couldn't. And now…now they're trying to achieve it by hurting him emotionally, not physically. I bet you anything they hired Rutsklich just to torment him. That's why he's not acting like a normal lawyer; he's not out to prove anything. His sole purpose is to find what memories haunt George the most and exploit them."

Charlie felt his jaw drop. He knew Rutsklich was a right bastard, but he never thought that perhaps he wasn't even trying to win the case. "How did you…?"

"George got me thinking," Fred replied to the unfinished question. "He's the one who thought something was wrong, and now that I see it, it's a bit obvious. And the annoying part is that we can't do anything about it. Whether Rutsklich is the esteemed lawyer we thought he was going to be or not, we can't just demand that the defence gets themselves another lawyer right out of the blue, and especially not at the end of the case; we'd have to do the whole bloody thing over again. But I will not let them take whatever there is left of George away," Fred said adamantly through clenched teeth. "I almost lost him once, and if I let them break him now, he'll be lost forever. I won't get him back, and I'll do anything before I let that happen."

"You can't stop the questions Rutsklich is bound to ask," Charlie said quietly.

"I know," Fred whispered, suddenly forlorn. "But maybe I can somehow get George to not react to them."

Charlie snorted before he could stop himself. "Merlin's beard, Fred, _we_ can't help but react and we didn't go through it! Didn't you see Bill? He's the calmest person any of us know and _he _reacted!"

"I know!" Fred snapped, his fingernails digging into his palm. "But what else can we do? Unless you want to opt for the illegal route, which I'm not opposed to but I can't help but feel that Mum will disapprove," he finished with a slight smirk.

"George has toughed it out up 'til now," Charlie offered a little hopefully. "Maybe he'll be okay –"

"And if he's not?" Fred challenged. "What if he's at his breaking point?"

"We can talk to him –"

"He'll deny it, the self-sacrificing git," Fred grumbled. "He'll be as bad as Harry one day."

"Stop interrupting me," Charlie said in exasperation. "I was _going_ to say we can talk to him and perhaps warn him about snide remarks Rutsklich might say so he'll be prepared."

Fred blinked. "Oh. That's not bad." He sounded surprised.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Glad you have such faith in me."

* * *

George had been skirting on the edges of consciousness for some time before he became aware of a strange uneasiness that told him something was different from the other mornings. The first being that he was very…well, absolutely bloody hot. He could feel beads of sweat rolling down his back in perhaps the most unpleasant manner, and he usually had the sense not to sleep with a blanket during the summer.

And not only that; there was also the fact that Fred wasn't demanding he awoke and chucking inanimate objects at him to stir him. He supposed in his still sleepy brain that Fred could have slept in, but he didn't hear the faint snore of his twin in the other bed, which tossed that theory out of the window because George was pretty sure Fred snored even when he was a baby and refused to break the habit. But perhaps the biggest giveaway was the voices coming from somewhere in the room.

He groaned and attempted to shift himself so he could block whoever had the audacity to hold a conversation _in his bedroom,_ but found that he couldn't move. Panic immediately settled in as his mind jumped to the last time he had awoken unable to move his arms. He gave a yelp and thrashed about, determined to not let himself relive that horrible experience before he felt two pairs of hands instantly reach for him, which didn't help at all, since he assumed said appendages belonged to Horace and Sebastien and only made him struggle harder in near hysterics.

It was only until he recognised the voices frantically calling his name to be Charlie and Fred did he calm down. He bolted upright, breathing heavily and looking quite shaken. George glared at his clearly alarmed and worried brothers through his sweaty fringes, one hand on his chest, and got out, "What…the bloody hell…did you two do to me?! Why couldn't I move my arms?!"

They looked a bit confused, until realisation dawned on Fred and he looked positively horrified. "Oh _shit,_ George, I'm sorry! It was probably the blankets!"

George looked at his lap and was a little amused to find three large families' worth of blankets on his lap. He quirked up an eyebrow and asked, "Why?"

"You looked cold," Fred mumbled, going a bit pink in the face in embarrassment.

George rolled his eyes, willing his heart rate to go back to normal. _"Polar bears _don't get this cold."

"Yes, well, they have fur and this makes up for that particular disability," Fred replied with a small grin.

"Right," George murmured, taking deep breaths and focusing on the wall in front of him.

"I'm sorry –"

"Don't worry about it," George said absent-mindly, shoving the blankets on to the floor. When he turned his gaze to his brothers, his eyes went immediately to Charlie with slight confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Charlie still looked a bit taken aback from the dramatic scene, but managed to stammer, "Just…er, just checking up…talking with Fred – are you alright?"

"I'm fine," George replied, and indeed was feeling better; or, at least his body calmed down. "So, er, you two had to talk in the bedroom, eh? Everywhere else taken over by Death Eaters then?" he asked with a stretch and a yawn.

Fred shifted awkwardly. It was a lot more uncomfortable to confess that he hadn't been able to leave his side with Charlie in the room. And George, for that matter. "Just, er, happened that way."

"Right…" George said slowly, watching as neither of them offered up a real explanation or moved to leave. "Do you want me to go back to sleep or something so you can finish your conversation? 'Cause I'll need fifteen minutes at least."

"No, no," Charlie said hastily, "we just wanted to, well, prepare you for tomorrow, I suppose."

Okay, now George was completely thrown. "Prepare me for tomorrow?" he repeated incredulously. "Does that seem like the hardest part for you two? Because today wasn't exactly a piece of cake, you know."

"No!" Charlie said frustratingly. "It's just Rutsklich is a git and we don't want him to be able to get a reaction out of you because that's all he wants; a reaction."

It clicked. "Oh, well, that's, erm, a good idea," George said before clearing his throat. "So…fire away, I guess."

"Give us a minute," Fred replied, frowning.

George felt like pointing out that it was more than a minute before one of them (Charlie) finally said, "How can we be sure that anything you say is true? For all we know, you could be making this whole thing up."

George raised his eyebrows in shock and Fred glowered at Charlie. "That's not –" Fred began to hiss before Charlie interrupted him.

"Answer the question, Mr. Weasley," Charlie said formally, seeming to throw himself whole-heartedly into the role. George would have laughed had it been any other circumstance.

"I suppose you believe my scars and abduction to be a figment of my imagination too?" George replied coldly.

Charlie shrugged. "You could have done it to yourself. You could have staged the whole thing."

"Charlie!" Fred barked angrily.

"You know it's something he's bound to ask," Charlie snapped back.

"I suppose I could have," George answered stiffly. "But I don't see any reason to."

"Wrong!" Charlie said, beginning to pace. "George, you're offering yourself up as bait. You're giving Rutsklich the perfect leeway to spurting all kinds of stuff about you that don't have to be true. And don't tense; you'll give them the satisfaction of knowing you're upset.

"Say that you most certainly could not have been able to pull such an elaborate scheme over your family for such a stupid reason; especially with Fred with you all the time. Next, then –"

George internally groaned; this would not be fun.

* * *

Reviews would be lovely!


	13. IMPORTANT NOTICE

DON'T PANIC.

If you don't remember favouriting and/or following me, you're not going crazy. You've just done so while I was under a different name.

I'm still the same author; my name has just been changed. Why, you ask? Well, it's a bit of a funny story.

You see, some 'followers' I guess you can call them have added me on Facebook, and I'm not discrediting that; I love talking to you guys. But being the fool that I was and using my real name as my (former) username, some have abused the faith I put in you guys. For the past little while, I've been getting an alarming amount of messages on my Facebook from people who really didn't become my friend to talk about writing 'so to speak.' All the people who have done this have been blocked and unfriended and all that (if you haven't been blocked, then don't worry about this; we're still friends!), but I'm forced to change my name.

Unfortunately, in nearly all of my stories (if not all) I have listed my (former) username, so starting TOMORROW MAY 1ST I am going to be reuploading all of my stories with the changed name listed. Don't worry; nothing else will be changed, and any stories that you favourited/followed should still be accessible to you. But sadly, I'm afraid that all of your lovely reviews might be erased Please don't feel the need to re-review them, but if you are so inclined, they will always be appreciated.

And I must ask to any of you that are my friends on Facebook that I haven't blocked, PLEASE do not talk about any of my stories on my wall. Inbox me instead. I must be strict about this; starting tomorrow, if I find any comments regarding my works, they will be deleted. If you persist, I'm afraid you will also be unfriended and/or blocked.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience to the people who have been nothing but kind to me.

I'll be posting this notice in all of my stories as well as on my profile.


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